Secrets At The Barricade
by Jedssisme1
Summary: In 1832, just weeks before the June rebellion, King Louis Philippe I's daughter, Princess Clairette, has gone missing. The same day, a 17 year old boy by the name of Clark shows up to support The Friends of the ABC and fight at the Barricade. Where is Clairette? Who is this mysterious boy? And who is this gamine that Enjolras has grown fond of? EnjolrasxOC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Alright, I'm going to justify my reason for writing this right now. I watched the new musical and became an obsessive little fangirl. I know, I'm pathetic, right? I really need to get a life. Anyway, this is my first Les Miserables fanfiction (and probably my last). This idea popped into my head in a dream-Twilight moment *throws sparkles in the air*- and I couldn't get it out of my head and it was distracting me from my Harry Potter fanfiction. (It's called When The Truth Hurts More Than Lies, if you want to check it out.) So I needed to get this out of my head before I could resume working on that one. Sorry if it seems a bit rushed, I want to get done with this as soon as possible! Thanks for reading! Enjoy!**

**Chapter one**

When Maria Amalia, Clairette's dear, but rather daft, mother, opened the door to Clairette's bedchamber to wake her, she found it empty. There was no sign of struggle, in fact, the room was very tidy; the frothy, laced, cream colored bed was made, there was nothing on the white carpeted floor, and the light brown desk was clear, except for a nearly empty bottle of ink and a blank piece of parchment. The walls, which were off-white in color, weren't dented or banged up in any way. The only thing amiss was the latch on the glass balcony door, which was hanging open. Curious, Maria stepped out onto the balcony and looked about. Her darling Clairette wasn't there. She turned to go back in when a white piece of fabric at the end of the balcony caught her eye. She went to examine it and found that it was, in fact, a white sheet, which had been tied around the gray balcony railing. Several sheets had been tied to the end of that one, so it created a long rope which extended several stories.

Maria, unsure how to handle any situation that was more complicated than choosing a dress for a party, screamed, which caused the elderly maid, Alina, who had been busy sorting old, ragged clothing into a "throw away pile," to come rushing in to see what the problem was.

"My Lady, what's ever the matter?" She asked hurriedly, her eyes scanning the balcony for any signs of danger.

"Go get my husband, quickly! I fear our Claire has been kidnapped!" Maria said urgently, before entering Clairette's room again and swooning onto the girl's cream colored bed. "Tell everyone to search the castle!"

The news of the missing princess spread like wildfire, and within an hour, every maid, every servant, and every gardener, as well as others, were scouring the castle and grounds. Everyone except one, however. His name was Pierre, and he had more pressing matters to deal with.

He only owned a couple things, and that included a pair of gray work pants, a white shirt, a pair of old shoes, a brown hat and a matching jacket, all of which had mysteriously gone missing. Many miles away from where he sat, puzzling over this dilemma, his clothing was making its way through a busy early morning crowd.

Pierre's clothing was currently being worn by boy named Clark. Well, his name wasn't really Clark, and he wasn't really a boy. His, or rather, her, name was Clairette. After escaping the castle in the middle of the night, using the sheets she'd been hiding in her room for months, she had quickly and stealthily gone down to the gardeners rooms and stolen clothing that was about her size. She'd then gone into the nearest alley to change, shoving her nightgown into the brown bag she had taken with her. This bag also contained a ragged brown and gray peasants dress (sneakily taken from Alina's throw away pile), bourgeoisie woman's attire, and a large amount of golden coins. She'd rubbed dirt and grime on her face and clothes, careful not to get any into her gray eyes, and then she'd stuffed her blonde mass of hair, which went down to the middle of her back, up under the brown hat.

Back in the present, she was passing a bakery and she looked into the glass window and saw her reflection looking back. She was pleased to see that she looked like a proper street urchin. Smiling a little, she continued onward, twisting her way through the early morning crowd of people. She spied a pair of elegantly dressed people, a young blonde woman in a purple dress and a middle aged man with a receding gray hairline and a black top hat. They were probably father and daughter. The pair was handing some coins to a young, dirty blonde boy, thirteen years old at most.

Claire smiled to herself and began making her way over to them. They looked friendly enough, and if she was going to be living on the streets, she would need to beg eventually. Why not try her skills now?

"Please, Sir," She said in a voice much lower than her own, to further her boy persona. "Do you have any spare coins?"

"I have a few, yes." The man said, putting several into Clairette's outstretched hand. "I have never seen you here before, what is your name?"

"Thank you, Monsieur. I'm Clark, Sir."

"You seem like a decent lad. Not from around here, eh? I'm Monsieur Madeleine, and this is my daughter, Cosette."

"Pleasure to meet you." Claire replied, nodding in appreciation and starting to turn away from the pair.

Before Claire had completely turned away from them, there was a thudding of hooves and people began to shout. Claire turned quickly to see several uniformed men on horses thundering her way. Of course the word of the missing princess would be out by now. The horses stopped, and a crowd of people gathered around them, some angry that their morning had been disrupted, and some curious as to what this many important looking men were doing in the slums of France.

"King Louis has an urgent message for all people of France!" One of the men, the leader who Claire recognized as Inspector Javert, the man in charge of dealing with all crimes done on the streets. "His daughter, Princess Clairette Philippe, has gone missing!"

Much of the crowd was silent. Whether they were shocked into silence or just completely uninterested, Claire couldn't tell. Javert frowned; clearly he expected some sort of reaction. Claire smirked. Like the poor cared if some rich girl was missing. They were probably thinking that it served the rotten king right, and Claire agreed.

Claire hadn't run away just to worry her parents, however, even though that was a fun plus side to running away. No, she'd heard through a source, that source being a raggedy, drunken old woman Claire had met as she'd been out for a walk among the streets, that there was a great uprising coming.

"You watch yourself, Princess, dearie," The old woman had slurred angrily. "You just watch your pretty little neck, because before you know it, the people will be seeing that neck placed right there, if we succeed." She'd pointed to the center of the little town, where a guillotine was placed.

It hadn't been used in years, but it was there to scare the people into submitting and following the laws. The woman had then spit at Claire's feet, and laughed as the soldiers sent to guard Claire began to drag the old lady away. Claire had ordered them to release the woman, and for months after that particular encounter, the woman's words had resounded in her skull. She wanted to help them, and if there really was an uprising being planned, well, she would certainly be there to support them in their fight against the cruelties of her father.

"She has been thought to be kidnapped, and if anyone has heard word or seen any sign of her, they should speak up now! A substantial reward will be given to any person with credible information on the princess's whereabouts!" Javert shouted at the crowd.

That got the people's attention. Javert unrolled a large piece of paper where a very detailed illustration of Clairette had been drawn, and he showed it to the crowd.

"This poster will be nailed on the wall of the court house right over there! If anything is seen or heard, contact an authority figure immediately!"

Claire ducked her head and brought her hat down over her face so that it was cast in shadow as the horsemen turned their horses away and galloped away, to give the same speech at a different location. She muttered a final, quick thank you to the man and his daughter and slipped away, following the winding road for another coupe hours or so, trying to get as far away from Javert and the poster as she could. She was beginning to feel that familiar ache in her stomach that meant she was hungry, so she ducked inside a small café and, with the money she had just received, she bought a small loaf of bread. She returned to the street, and continued to walk, slower now, and look about.

The street was very wide, able to fit three carriages side by side, but there were no carriages in sight. There were people, lots of people, shopping or begging or selling outside their shops. Alleyways between buildings were frequent, and almost all were dead ends, and she could see people sleeping there, or drinking, and there were a few women selling themselves. The whole street smelled a bit like mildew and urine, but she got used to it as she walked on.

She could hear a crowd cheering around a bend in the road, and she peered cautiously around a corner to see what the fuss was about. There was a large, wooden platform set up at the end of the street, and two young men, one with curly blonde hair and a red waistcoat and black tie, and one with short brown hair and a long, freckled face, with a blue waistcoat, were yelling with strong voices, urging the crowd on with fists raised. Claire noticed that many of the people looked very poor, with worn shoes, or no shoes at all.

"What's going on?" She asked a boy standing on a barrel next to her.

She realized it was the same young blonde boy that she had seen getting money from the man and his daughter earlier.

"It's the Friends of the ABC!" The young boy said proudly. "They are aiding in the education of children."

"Oh. Is that it?" Claire asked, somewhat disappointed, she'd thought this was the rebellion she'd been looking for.

"Well, I'll tell you a secret. They're only pretending to help educate children. They're really a rebellion. See my patch?" He said quietly, pointing to a round, tricolored badge on his dirty blue coat.

The circular patch had a blue center, then a ring of white, and finally a ring of red, and it was ruffled.

"I'll go get you one if you give me half of that loaf of bread." he said reasonably, eyeing Claire's barely touched loaf.

"Alright," she said gruffly, but she was excited; could this be the uprising she had been looking for?

"But I want to go with you; I want to get a better look." She tore the loaf in half and handed the bigger half to the boy. "What's your name?"

"I'm Gavroche," He said through a mouthful of bread. "What 'bout you?"

"I'm Clark." She answered simply as he led her through the crowd. "What's the rebellion trying to do?"

"You ain't from around here, are yeh? We're trying to get equality so we aren't starving all the time and aren't treated like useless rodents!" Gavroche stated as they got closer to the wooden platform.

Claire looked up through the crowd at the speakers. She was on the side closest to the one in the red waistcoat. From this close, she could see that he had a patch that was identical to the one Gavroche wore on his coat.

"That's Enjolras. The other one is Marius. They're leading the rebellion." Gavroche said, seeing her staring.

Claire just nodded as she watched and listened to their passionate speeches.

"Clark, this is Grantaire, he's my friend, and he's also part of the rebellion, Grantaire, this is Clark; he wants one of those," Gavroche said, pointing to a small pile of the red, white, and blue striped patches.

"Pleasure to meet you!" Grantaire said happily.

He seemed like one of those people you couldn't help but like. He had curly black hair and a large nose, and his cheeks were pink and round, and it looked like he couldn't _not_ smile.

"Pleasure's entirely mine," Claire said, taking the striped patch that was handed to her and pinning it on her stolen coat.

"What's the purpose of this?" She asked again, looking for a better answer than the one Gavroche had given her.

"We believe it's wrong that the upper class have so much while people here are starving and dying every day. We want to uplift the oppressed poor of France." Said a voice from behind her. She turned around to see the young man with the red waistcoat, the one called Enjolras, standing behind her.

He was sweating, and as he spoke he reached up and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white under shirt and loosened his tie. He was tall and slender, and rather pale.

"Ello, Enjolras!" Grantaire said cheerfully, but Enjolras didn't smile back.

"The meeting starts at eight," he said, before turning back to Claire.

"Who are you?"

"Clark," Claire said, stretching out her hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I enjoyed your speech. I would love to be a part of your cause."

Enjolras shook Claire's hand quickly, then dropped it and spoke.

"The speech wasn't for enjoyment; it was to incite the audience. It was to make them believe that they have power as well. It was to make them believe that we can, and will, succeed. If you wish to join, there's a meeting at eight at the Café Musain, right over there." He said, pointing to a large crooked building that was at the very end of the street next to it stood a wine shop.

"I hope to see you there." Enjolras said, and he turned and walked towards the café.

"He's very serious about the cause." Grantaire chuckled. "He's no fun at all."

"I like that he's so passionate about it! This is a great cause! We need to cut those upper class rich folk down to size!" Claire said excitedly.

"Here here!" Gavroche and Grantaire said together.

"You'll come to the meeting tonight, right Clark? You'll see what it's all about! We could use a guy like you!" Grantaire said, grinning.

"Right, okay, I'll be there." Claire said, smiling.

**Alright, so I hoped you enjoyed the first chapter! It's not much, I know, but it will get better, I swear, that was just to introduce the characters and all that jazz, so bear with me! Also, I love reviews, they inspire me and give me motivation to keep writing, so if you could just drop a review in the review box below this, that would be fabulous! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!**

**~Jedss**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Okay, here's chapter two, If things are indented weird, it's because I originally wrote this on my iPad, and then emailed it to myself, and for some reason it didn't keep any of the indentations and everything just looked like a big long essay and yeah it was bad. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Chapter Two**

Several hours later, Claire found herself pacing outside the entrance to the Café Musain in the chilly night air, debating with herself.

"Come on, you baby, go inside and join the meeting." She said quietly to herself. "What are you so nervous about?"

"I'm not nervous, I'm being cautious," she said reasonably. "One of them might recognize me."

"They haven't recognized you yet," the other side of her mind said, "And you're dressed as a boy; they're looking for some damsel in distress, not a dirty urchin."

"Clark?" a voice said, and Claire whirled around.

"Oh, hello, Grantaire." She said.

He was standing in the doorway of the Café, holding the door open. It looked warm and inviting inside, and Claire could hear people laughing and the sound of drinks clinking. The smell of alcohol swept out the door and enveloped her in its stench.

"Are you going to come in or did I just interrupt a very important conversation between you and...Yourself?"

"Ah, well, you see, I was going to go inside in a minute I was just... thinking out loud."

"Well, come on in, and you won't have to worry about thinking. Enjolras will do the thinking for everyone."

Nodding, Claire slipped in the door.

"Come on, the meeting's upstairs." Grantaire said, leading her through the large room filled with drunken men and flirtatious barmaids to an exquisitely built stairway at the back of the room, hidden in shadows.

"If the meeting is upstairs, how did you see me?" Claire asked skeptically.

"There's a large window up there. You can see the whole street."

Grantaire stomped noisily up the spiraled stairs towards the sound of young men, and Claire followed quietly. She could hear the loud voices and drunken laughter before she saw them. There was a group of around twenty-five, all laughing and chatting happily. Every one of them had a cup of wine in their hands, and they were all at different stages of drunkenness. There was a large window at the other side of the room, and you could indeed see the entire street.

In a corner of the room were two young men that looked neither drunk nor happy. They looked out of place in the general cheeriness of the room and that was probably why they stood out to Claire. She recognized them as the two who had been ranting on the platform earlier that day. Claire sat down on a stool in the corner on the opposite side of the room where she could observe the happenings around her without being noticed.

Someone handed her an almost overflowing cup of wine. She took a sip and grimaced, but it warmed her insides a little, so she took small sips every few minutes as she watched the young men playing games and chatting happily.

Around an hour later, just as Claire was beginning to doze off, her head feeling fuzzy and heavy do to the cup of wine that had been refilled once already, Enjolras stood up and said in a loud voice that caused the other men to go silent instantly, with the exception of Grantaire, who giggled every time he hiccupped.

"Listen, brothers, if you are not too drunk to do so!" With this he glared at Grantaire, who only laughed and refilled his cup unsteadily. "We are weeks away from being prepared enough for this rebellion! We have been collecting weapons and gun powder for months and we still only have enough for half of us to be well armed! We have had to be cautious so as not to buy so many weapons that the authorities would be suspicious, but we can use this distraction-"

"And what distraction would that be?" Came a loud voice from a young man with his long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Are you all so dense that not one of you has heard the news?" Marius said, mouth agape.

"No, we just don't care!" Laughter all around, "Pray tell us what distraction might be large enough to allow us to buy a large amount of weapons without the authorities being suspicious!"

"The princess being missing..." Claire said, loud enough to be heard clearly by those around her, but not by the other side of the room.

"What?" Came Grantaire's drunken voice.

Claire rose, a bit unsteadily, and set her cup of wine down carefully on the table nearest to her.

"The princess Clairette Philippe has gone missing; they suspect that she's been kidnapped." She smirked. "All the authorities have been dealing with that unfortunate-err- situation since this morning, and all attention will be focused on that until the princess has been found."

"Exactly!" Enjolras said, smiling at Claire. "And so they won't notice, or care, if someone orders a large amount of gun powder and guns because they'll be so focused on finding the princess alive and safe!"

"And even if they do notice," Marius interrupted, "All we have to say is that we want to be able to protect our sisters and mothers from the people that kidnapped the princess!"

"That's all fine and dandy," Grantaire said, almost lazily. "But where are you planning on finding the money to get these guns and other weapons, hmm? Do you think the money will just appear because we need it?"

"No, of course not," Marius said, "But we can rally the people; send a donation plate around..."

"That won't work." Someone said. "These people are poor and desolate as it is, if any of them even have any money, it won't be donated to our cause."

"We'll find a way to get the money." Enjolras said firmly. "Now get your drunken asses out of here and go home before you all pass out, we'll meet here again tomorrow, same time."

The was the sound of chairs being pushed back and men standing up, groans and chuckles, backs and knuckles being cracked, and the remnants of wine being drunk and cups being dropped back on the tables as one by one the men stood and left. Soon it was only Marius, Enjolras, and Claire in the room, but they didn't see her, because she sat on the stool in the shadows with her cup of wine back in her hands.

"What do you think has happened to the princess?" Marius asked, sitting down at the table across from where Enjolras was sitting, scribbling away at a piece of parchment.

"Probably kidnapped, as they say." He replied without looking up.

"But why?"

"He has no sons, and she is unmarried so she would inherit the kingdom. There's probably going to be a ransom note sent within the week and we'll hear about it and be told to do our civil duty to that bastard called king. The bitch can stay kidnapped for all I care." Enjolras growled, scratching something out violently on his paper.

"She hasn't done anything wrong, Enjolras." Marius said calmly.

"Neither have any of the hungry children and beggars on the streets, Marius! The only difference is that she's well fed and doesn't have to worry if she'll need to sell her body to survive or about where her next meal is coming from or whether today is the day she's going to die."

"She has to worry about all of that now," Marius said. "If she really has been kidnapped. She'll need to worry about her virtue and her meals and her life now. What if the ransom is paid and she's delivered to their doorstep after having been raped, starved, and murdered? She'd be just like the people on the streets then, wouldn't she? Except she'd be lucky, because she wouldn't have to live through it anymore."

Enjolras was silent, and Marius went on.

"Yes, she may be the richest girl in France, Enjolras, but she has no more power than any of us. She didn't choose to be born a princess, Enjolras, it was God's will. Blame the King and Queen, not their daughter."

"She hasn't done anything to help. She doesn't care about the people on the streets." Enjolras muttered.

"Have you ever met her? I don't think you can say that about someone until you've met them personally." Marius reasoned. "I'm going home now, I'll see you tomorrow, Enjolras."

Enjolras grunted and Marius disappeared down the stairs. Claire continued to watch Enjolras work. His brows were furrowed in frustration, and he kept pushing his hair up and out of his face with his left hand. He took a sip of wine every now and then and his Adam's apple bobbed slightly each time. At one point he stood to stretch and remove his waist coat, but then he sat down again and continued to work intently.

Claire continued to study him for what seemed like hours. He worked with his mouth barely open, and his head tilted slightly to the right. He cracked his knuckles every ten minutes or so, and he tapped his foot on the floor impatiently when he was thinking of what to write next. Claire's eyelids began to droop, and the metal cup, half filled with wine slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. Enjolras's head snapped up and he looked in her direction.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drop it; I'll clean it up." Claire said, pulling a rag from the nearest table and bending don to wipe up the spilled wine.

"How long have you been sitting there?" Enjolras asked angrily, striding over to her.

"I've been sitting here since the meeting started, I'm sorry, I was just watching." She replied, standing up and putting the now wine soaked rag back on the table.

"Why didn't you leave when I told everyone to leave?" He asked, glaring at her.

"Because I wasn't ready to leave yet." She said simply.

"I told everyone to leave. Why were you spying?"

"I wasn't spying!" She said defiantly. "I was just sitting in a corner... listening."

Enjolras scoffed. "I'm too busy to listen to nonsense right now. Leave."

"No." Claire said, crossing her arms.

"Leave, I'm busy!" Enjolras said advancing on her.

"This isn't your café," Claire said, aware of how juvenile she sounded. "I can be here however long I please."

Enjolras glared at her, but Claire glared right back. He obviously wasn't used to being told no, or used to losing an argument. He turned and stalked back to his seat, sat down, and continued working, making a point to ignore her when she sat down across from him. She continued to watch him for ten minutes until he couldn't ignore her any longer.

"Are you just going to sit there and stare at me? Are you asking to be punched?"

"Well, I have nowhere else to go, I might as well stay he where it's warm."

"There are other warm places."

"But there's no one I can talk to at those other places."

"There's no one you can talk to here, either." And he continued to ignore her.

"You know, I think Marius is right about the princess. Not that she was kidnapped, but that she wants to help, but couldn't."

Enjolras said nothing, so Claire went on.

"I mean, think about having a father like the King. She probably wants to help. I mean, she must look out her window and see the people in the streets dying and begging and feel utterly helpless. She has all that fancy, valuable stuff and she can't do anything to help people who have nothing because her father won't let her."

"Is that what you think? You don't believe she's some selfish, fat monster like her mother and father?" Enjolras replied.

"No, I don't believe she is. I believe she wants change and equality just as much as any beggar on the street."

"Well, you're crazy, then." Enjolras said, glaring at his paper.

"What are you working on?" Claire asked to change the subject.

"The speech for tomorrow. It sounds so infantile. It's pathetic words on paper."

"Let me see," Claire said, taking the paper and reading it. "No, this is genius! If this doesn't get the people motivated to change I don't know what will! "

"Stop lying, you're not very good at it."

"I'm not lying!" Claire said angrily.

"Just go away, I need to work!" Enjolras said loudly.

"I already told you I have nowhere to go!" Claire said back, even louder, and her voice echoed slightly in the empty, dimming room.

Enjolras went silent again and simply stared at her, noticing for the first time the dirt and grime that Claire had applied to her face and clothes earlier that morning.

"I'm sorry." Enjolras said at last.

"Don't be, I'll find somewhere." Claire said, standing up and mentally preparing herself for the cold of the streets.

"No, stay, I'm sorry, I understand you have nowhere to go. I have no right to kick you out."

"It's okay, there are other warm places." Claire stated.

"No, that was wrong of me to say. You're welcome here."

"No, I'll leave, you need to work." Claire said walking towards the stairs.

"Here, if you're so intent on leaving now, take this key. It's the key to my room at the inn next door, room eleven. It's small, but it's another warm place." He stood up and placed the key in her palm.

"Thank you. I'll go there now. Goodnight." Claire said.

"Goodnight, Clark."

**Wow…. Talk about a crappy ending, huh? Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! Don't forget to review review review! And I have a tumblr, so you can follow me at standing-in-the-clouds! Again, thanks for reading my terrifying, dream inspired fanfiction! *Throws glitter again***


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Alright, so yes, I know, three chapters in one day? I must be crazy! But I have my reasons, the main one being that I'll be in Texas for a week and I'm leaving tonight, so yeah! Enjoy!**

**Chapter Three**

Claire woke the next morning to knocking on the door of Enjolras's room.

"Clark? Are you still in there?"

Claire groaned as she sat up. She was in the corner of his room, on the floor. She'd used her bag as a pillow but that didn't mean her body was any less sore. She'd have to get used to that if she was going to be sleeping in the streets. Her hat had fallen off in the night, and she quickly stuffed her hair back into it as she went to the door and opened it. It was Enjolras, of course, and he stepped in quickly.

"The speech is in an hour, I just need to change- why did you sleep on the floor?" He asked, looking at Claire quizzically.

"I thought you were going to come here when you finished your speech."

"I rarely spend the night here, I just come to change clothes." He said, turning to the dresser by the window and quickly pulling off his waistcoat and shirt.

Claire was about to turn around to give him privacy when she remembered that, as of right now, she was a young man named Clark, and it would be odd if another man was embarrassed to see another man, so, like any devious girl in disguise, she studied him. He had good muscles, in fact, it looked as if someone had chiseled his muscles out of stone they were so defined. He was pale, which added to how statue like he was. He pulled on another shirt and Claire did look away, pretending to be interested in the hideous painting on the wall, as he pulled off his pants and undergarments.

"What are you looking at?" He asked as he put his boots back on.

"That painting. It's the most hideous painting I've ever seen in all my life, and I've seen some pretty hideous paintings." She had, of course, seen ugly paintings, living in a castle with hundreds of hallways, she'd always been disgusted in the paintings of peaceful landscapes and pretty houses.

"I think it's nice." Enjolras said offhandedly, tying a black tie around his neck.

"It looks so fake. And happy. Ugh, it even has flowers. I wouldn't have been surprised if the artist had painted smiling faces on them."

"But that's why I think it's nice. Even in the midst of all this," Enjolras gestured out the window, where the sky looked bleak and gray. "Someone can create something happy and beautiful."

Claire turned to look at him, but he had already turned towards the door.

"You can stay here as long as you want. The rally is in an hour, if you want to go, and the meeting is at eight. I hope to see you there." And with that, he was gone.

Claire's head was filled to overflowing with thoughts. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down. What did she need to do right now? Right, she needed to change. She locked the door again and set the key on the dresser so she wouldn't forget it, then turned to her brown drawstring bag. She carefully pulled out her fancy dress. It was a light blue with puffed sleeves rimmed with white lace. The neckline scooped down in a way that was revealing, but not scandalous. It wasn't the fanciest dress she owned, of course, but it was more comfortable than most, because of the way the torso was sewn, and she didn't need a corset. Also, she needed to look like a well off young woman out for a stroll, not like a princess.

She slipped off her dirty pants, jacket, and shirt, then kicked off the shoes. She slipped the dress on over her head, and then looked at her reflection in the window. The dress wasn't too wrinkled, it would serve. She pulled on the matching shoes and carefully took the hat off her head, letting her hair fall down her back. She found a comb in one of the dresser drawers and pulled it through her hair, then she put the intricate blue bonnet that went with the dress on her head and tied it securely under her chin. She knelt down by her bag and pulled out the purse with many gold coins in it. She folded the other clothes and put them into her bag, then pushed it into a shadowy corner. She found a pitcher of water and used it to wash the dirt and grime off her face and arms so that her face was clean and pink.

She took the key from the dresser and put it in her purse, then she quickly left the room and the inn, making her way down the street towards where the rally was being held. She was a bit late, but she saw Enjolras and Marius speaking loudly, and she recognized the speech from what she had read the night before. She stayed at the edge of the crowd, ignoring the looks from the poor beggar people as she past.

She watched Enjolras, and as he turned to address the other side of the crowd, his eyes caught hers for the briefest of moments and his voice faltered, but he continued, raising his fist and the crowd cheered.

"Thank you for coming today! The time is short now! Viva la France!" He said loudly, and the crowd cheered again.

"Viva la France! Viva la Resistance!"

Claire struggled through the crowd with difficulty, the dress was causing her trouble, she kept stepping on the hem, and that was why she hated them. She saw Enjolras, his head swiveling back and forth, trying to see over the crowd, as if looking for someone. His back was to her. She turned quickly and saw Grantaire looking at her.

"Monsieur," Claire said, looking him in the eyes and striding towards him with purpose and grace.

Grantaire smiled and walked towards her as well, looking incredibly smug.

"Monsieur, I wish to donate to your cause." She said keeping her voice high and airy, pulling out her purse and opening it.

Grantaire smiled charmingly, but looked at her purse suspiciously. Claire pulled out the gold coins and held them in her open palm.

"I heard from a source that you needed money for weaponry and gun powder," she said faintly, as if the very words 'weaponry' and gun powder' scared her.

She extended her hand, about to pour the coins into Grantaire's hand, but she pulled it back at the last second.

"And Monsieur, this is for your cause, not for wine or other drink, understand? I will know if it's used for anything other than what I gave it for." She said sternly, looking Grantaire directly in the eyes.

He nodded, and stood in shock as she handed him the money. It was probably more money than he'd ever seen in his entire life.

"Thank- thank you, mademoiselle, I- I don't know what to say. You're an angel from God." He stammered.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Claire said loftily as she turned.

"Mademoiselle, please," Grantaire said, catching her arm and turning her back around to face him. "Have we met somewhere before? You look very familiar..."

"No, monsieur, I'm not from around here. Farewell."

She looked at the back of Enjolras's head once more before disappearing into the crowd. She needed to get back to the room and change into her peasant dress before coming back out onto the streets to beg for money. She could have kept some of the money for herself, but she knew that the cause needed her gold more than she did, so she hurried back to Enjolras's room and let herself in. She kicked of the shoes and pulled the dress and bonnet off and stuffed them in her bag, not bothering to fold it carefully; she wouldn't need it again. She slipped the simple peasant dress, ragged and brown with sleeves cut off just below the shoulder and a hem that went barely past her knees, over her head and transferred the key from her purse into the skirt pocket. She left the room barefoot, using her hands to tangle her hair as best she could as she walked out of the inn and onto the street, picking up dirt as she went and rubbing it onto her cheeks, neck, forehead, and her bare arms and legs. She headed back to where the rally had taken place, hoping to catch a glimpse of Enjolras before he disappeared into the Café Musain.

She had returned to the room after a long day of begging on a street corner and had just folded her hair up under her hat when Enjolras burst into the room, fuming.

"What's the matter? What's going on?" Claire asked, dropping her hands quickly to her sides.

"I'm going to kill Gavroche!" Enjolras cried, slamming the door and rolling his eyes up to the ceiling exasperatedly.

"Why? What's he done?" Claire asked.

"He's going on and on about this young woman who was watching me the entire time at the rally."

"Oh?" Claire asked, turning so that he wouldn't see her face redden. "And where was Gavroche during the rally?"

"Standing on top of a pile of old barrels, so he could see the crowd. He's making things up, as usual. He said that if I gave him one franc he'd find her for me. Of course, I gave him a franc-"

"You gave him a franc? To find her?" Claire asked worriedly.

She didn't doubt that Gavroche was expert at finding people; that's probably how he made a living.

"No, Clark, let me finish what I was saying! I gave him a franc to leave me alone. I don't have time for that nonsense, not with the rebellion so close." Enjolras strode to the window and looked out.

Claire saw how his eyes lit up at the mention of the rebellion.

"We should probably get to the meeting," Claire said, and Enjolras nodded.

They walked slowly to the café, and Claire was excited to see how Grandaire would present the money, she assumed he would make it as dramatic as possible. Enjolras was silent, he often was, but Claire wanted to talk to him, if only to hear his voice. They reached the café and entered silently. They climbed the spiral stairs and were greeted by a cheer from the other men.

"What? What's happened? Why is everyone so excited?" Enjolras asked suspiscously. "Grantaire, what have you done?"

Claire smiled knowingly and moved to the corner she'd sat in the night before, where she could sit and watch and and observe without being noticed. Someone handed her a cup of wine, the cup was considerably larger than the one she'd been given yesterday, but she didn't think it mattered.

"Young Apollo, your statueship!" Grantaire began teasingly. "I was given a grand gift this fine afternoon by a beautiful young woman-"

"Oh, please, not you,too!" Enjolras cried, exasperated. "I've gotten enough of this from Gavroche-"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about," Grantaire said in a singsong voice, although Claire saw him wink at Gavroche, who was sitting on a table on the other side of the room. "But, this beautiful young woman, and she was indeed beautiful. I almost fell to my knees and could barely speak when she came up to me, gave me a wonderful gift to support our cause!" He sang drunkenly, and Claire was happy she was in the corner, because she was turning a deep shade of red.

"What, did she give you a kiss and that's what's got you all excited. Grantaire? She must have mistaken you for someone else; only someone mad would willingly kiss you." Enjolras said, turning to glower at Grantaire. "Now, if you don't mind, we need to get down to business-"

"Alas, the young angel did not give me a kiss, good thing, too, for I might have fainted." Grantaire said, pretending to swoon.

There was laughter from everyone, included Claire, and she took a sip from her cup.

"But what she did give me meets your definition of business, my good monsieur, for this lovely lady gave me a handful of-" and with this, he slammed his hand down on the table loudly, causing everyone to jump, and then go silent.

Everyone stared at Grantaire's hand as he lifted it, leaving in it's place a small mound of glittering gold coins, shining and glimmering in the candle light.

There was a gasp from the assembled men.

"Who was this woman?" Enjolras asked finally, looking up at Grantaire.

"I do not know, but I do know you're going to be up for a very long time calculating just how much weaponry that gold will buy us!" Grantaire said, laughing. "To the Rebellion!" He shouted, lifting his cup.

"To the Rebellion!" Everyone downed their wine.

"Viva la France!" Someone else yelled.

"Viva la France!" More wine was drunk.

Many more toasts were made, and even more wine was drunk. Claire felt her vision go hazy. She felt rather than saw her cup being refilled once, then again as even more toasts were made. Finally the men staggered down the stairs, and Marius, Enjolras, and Claire were the only ones that remained. Marius said a cheerful goodbye and he too, left. It was silent for about an hour, and Claire didn't even know if Enjolras knew she was there, but finally he spoke. His words were barely slurred, despite the amount of wine he had drunk.

"I've counted the gold. We have enough to purchase the guns and the powder. More that enough, in fact! We are so close, Clark!" He cried, standing up and bounding to where she sat in the corner.

He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her up, where she swayed unsteadily.

"We are so close! I've never been more felicitous! What good fortune!" He cried.

"That's-" Claire gulped. "That's wonderful- I... Oh God I'm going to be sick!" She ran as fast as she could down the stairs and out the door, found her way into the nearest alley and began to heave into the gutter.

She felt a hand rubbing her back. Enjolras had followed her outside.

"Not much of a drinker, eh?" He asked, then laughed. "Of course not! Look at how small you are! I can't believe you held it in as long as you did!" He laughed louder, and, despite the fact that she was throwing up everything in her stomach, she liked the sound of his laugh.

Was he only this happy because he was drunk? Or was it because he finally had enough money to buy the murderous weapons he needed for the revolution? Either way, Claire preferred him this way, and she didn't want him to stop rubbing her back.

"Here, take my arm- no, that's my leg- there. You're really drunk, aren't you?" He chuckled as Claire struggled to stand, and then stood swaying on her feet. "Oh, are you going to be sick again? No? okay, careful, now."

He led her out of the alley and they stumbled back into the cafe, and up the stairs. He pulled out a chair and Claire sat heavily in it, then he sat across from her. Enjolras grabbed a half filled cup of wine and handed it to her.

"Are you joking? I don't think that's such a good idea-" Claire began, but Enjolras cut her off.

"Not to drink, you dafty; it's for you to rinse out your mouth. Spit it out the window when you're done."

Claire shrugged and nodded, taking the wine and taking a sip. She swirled it around in her mouth, and then went to the window and spit it out.

"I imagine you're mouth tastes better now." Enjolras said, smiling.

"Yeah, thanks." Claire said, sitting down across from him again.

"So tell me, Clark. How did you come to be homeless?" Enjolras said, leaning across the table in curiosity.

"You're very talkative when you're drunk." Claire said, avoiding the question.

"Drunk and incredibly happy." Enjorlas corrected. "And I'm not that drunk. I only had about two cups of wine. Are you going to answer the question?"

"Um, well. I ran away." Claire said, looking down at her hands.

"Why?" Enjolras asked.

"My father is an evil man."

"What's he done? What could make him so evil that you would rather live on the streets?"

"Everything. He believes that the people of the streets are nothing but vile vermin that need to be exterminated, and he believes the soldiers are pawns and that their lives can be thrown away for the most unimportant reasons." Claire said in disgust.

"Many people feel that way."

"Yes, but I felt like I needed to do something about it." Claire said between clenched teeth. "Not enough people cared, that's why when I saw you and Marius speaking yesterday, I joined immediately. I had heard about this cause from an old woman months ago, but it took some time for me to get prepared. It seemed like the perfect way to make a difference!"

"Here, here." Enjolras said half-heartedly. "But I don't understand. Why did you not stay in your house and support our cause from there? Your father would not have had to find out. You could have supported us in secret."

"My father would have found out. He would have killed me. Or at least confined me to my room until I withered away like a weed.."

"He has no right to treat you that way."

"He does if he's the king and I'm a girl..." Claire thought. Out loud she said

"Even so, it's better this way. I can actually help now, which is what I want to do."

"Thank you." Enjolras said sincerely. "Have you ever run away before?"

"Once before, when I was twelve. It was when the British invaded six years ago. I ran away to fight against France, but I was only gone for a few days. We were defeated quickly and I returned home. My father hadn't even noticed I was gone."

"Why did you fight against France?" Enjolras asked, confused and shocked.

"I would do anything to get that bastard off the throne."

"I would, too. But, I need to work on tomorrow's speech. Do you still have the room key?"

Claire nodded.

"Alright, good. And Clark, remember, I usually never go there at night, so don't worry, you can sleep on the bed."

Claire nodded and stood, but before she left she patted Enjolras on the shoulder.

"I'm glad we finally have enough. It won't be too long, now."

He smiled at her as she staggered down the stairs. Then he turned and watched out the window as Claire made her way down the street. He watched until she turned a corner and was gone from sight, then he turned and began to work on the speech.

**Alright, don't forget to review! Thanks for reading! **

**~Jedss**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Alrighty, alrighty. Sooo… I was in Texas for a week, so that's the reason for my lack of updates on this story. Enjolras gets a bit OOC in this chapter (As well as Grantaire, but he's been OOC since the beginning, so he's a lost cause.), but oh well. Thank you for all the wonderful review and such, they're quite lovely and I appreciate them immensely. So, I think that's all I have to say for this chapter... So, read and enjoy!**

**Chapter four**

"Clark, wake up! Come on! Clark! CLARK!"

Claire woke groggily to Grantaire's voice. Two weeks had passed since that night when she had gotten so drunk that she'd thrown up the contents in her stomach into a gutter while Enjolras laughed and teased her. She knew many of the men by name now, including Bahorel, Comberferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Jean Prowaire, Joly, and Lesgle, and she'd had a bit to drink with them last night as well, when Enjolras had announced that he had received the first of the many guns he had ordered from several different places so as not to raise suspicion. Now she had a splitting headache. She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled over in the bed in hopes that he would just go away and let her deal with her headache by herself. That was her first mistake of the day.

"Alright, that's it," Grantaire said loudly. "I'm coming in!"

"Wha- no, Grantaire!" Claire cried, and she had barely slipped from the bed onto the floor on the side not facing the door when Grantaire burst in.

"Where are you? Did you fall on the floor?" Grantaire asked gleefully, closing the door and sitting in an armchair near it.

Claire didn't respond. She had just realized her second mistake. Her bag was on the other side of the bed, under the chair that Grantaire's ass was currently sitting in.

"Grantaire, throw me my bag." Claire demanded. "It's under the chair."

"No, you come get it." Grantaire said, laughing.

"I can't. I'm- I'm naked." Claire responded, blushing furiously. Mistake number three: sleeping in the nude.

To be fair to herself, though, she thought that she had the only key to the room; she hadn't known there were two, and that one of them was in the possession of Grantaire.

"So? We're both men here." Grantaire said, smirking, enjoying the fact that Claire was plainly uncomfortable.

"Just throw me my bag, Grantaire!"

"No. I'm comfortable." Grantaire said, and Claire called him a vulgar name. "Did you know they were following a lead on the missing princess's whereabouts until this morning, when it was called off?" Grantaire said conversationally, choosing to ignore the name Claire had just called him.

"Really?" Claire said, not really listening, and thinking about how she could get out of this situation without being discovered.

"Oh yes," Grantaire said, picking up Claire's bag and twiddling with the drawstrings that were tied in a loose knot. "Apparently the king received a mysterious letter two days ago saying that the princess would be killed unless a large amount of money was delivered to an abandoned house. Of course the king obliged and sent the money to the location, believing that his daughter would be there this morning, as the letter said. Of course, when the officer in charge of the case went to see if the princess was really there, she wasn't. It was just some clever person who was able to trick the king out of a good amount of money. Funny, isn't it? Anyway, I- wait- Clark, why is this in your bag?" His voice had changed from cheerful and carefree to one of shock.

"Are you going through my bag?!" Claire squealed as masculine as possible.

She peeked over the top of the bed to see Grantaire pulling out her light blue, but now very wrinkled, fancy dress from her bag.

"Clark, why is this dress in your bag?"

"It's my sisters." Claire lied quickly. "I was going to sell it." She hoped he wouldn't recognize it as the one she wore when she'd donated money two weeks ago.

"Oh-no- I've seen this dress somewhere before!" Grantaire said jumping out of the chair quickly and beginning to pace.

Claire could see the pieces clicking into place in his brain.

"Oh. My. God." He said, turning around slowly to look into her eyes, which were barely visible, peeking over the top of the bed. "You! How? You're a- you're a- a girl! That's why I recognized her..."

Her cover blown, Claire wrapped the blanket around her naked form and stood up quickly.

"Grantaire you can't tell anyone! Oh, please, if you're truly a brother of mine as you say every night at the meetings, you can't tell anyone! Not Marius, not Gavroche, especially not Enjolras! Please, Grantaire!" She strode to him and looked up into his face with pleading eyes. "Please, Grantaire! I'm too much a part of this rebellion to be kicked out now! Please promise me you won't tell anyone!"

Grantaire backed away from her as if she carried some kind of disease.

"How have you managed to fool us for so long?!" He asked, still in shock.

"People see what they expect to see! You didn't expect to see a girl in pants; only boys where pants! So when you saw me in dirty pants all you saw was a dirty homeless boy! I haven't changed at all!" Claire begged, going towards him again.

"Haven't changed?! Your whole gender has changed, Clark!"

"But I'm still the same person I was before you found out! I'm still me! What difference is there between me and the boy I've masqueraded as?!" Claire cried.

"How can you expect me to allow a girl to fight in the rebellion, knowing the dangers it poses?!" Grantaire said loudly, gesturing out the window at the street.

"I'm just as willing to fight now as I was when I first joined! I want to fight! You had no objections when you thought I was a boy!"

"The whole scenario has changed!"

"You're not the one who gets to decide my fate! You can't tell me if I can fight or not!" Claire cried, snatching her dress from Grantaire's hands and picking up her forgotten bag from where it lay on the floor. "Please, Grantaire," She said in a more gentle tone. "Please don't tell a soul. I'll do anything."

"Anything, huh?" Grantaire said, slowly returning to his jolly self. "Give me a kiss, then, and let's see if the angel really does cause me to fall to my knees!"

Claire rolled her eyes, and then gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Now out with you, you rogue, I need to change, and a lady doesn't change in front of a man." She said, pushing Grantaire out of the room.

She came out five minutes later, dressed in her street urchin attire, and locked the door.

"A lady doesn't dress in boys clothing, either." Grantaire whispered in her ear as they headed out onto the street, which earned him a punch in the belly from Claire.

"I can't believe you're a girl..." He said as they walked down the street to where the rally had already begun.

"SHH!" Claire hissed angrily as they joined the crowd of people surrounding the platform where Marius and Enjolras were shouting to the crowd.

Claire caught Enjolras's eye, and she smiled and gave him a friendly wink in support as he continued to speak passionately. About half an hour later, when his speech was over, he jumped down from the platform and made his way over to her and Grantaire.

"So, what did you think?" He asked in what for him was an excited voice.

"It was great! The best one yet!" Claire said, smiling brightly at him.

"Thank you. I worked on that one till about four in the morning. I still feel like they need more though, but I don't know what... Grantaire, why are you staring like that?" Enjolras asked irritably, looking at Grantaire.

Claire turned to see Grantaire's mouth hanging open, and his eye kept going from Claire to Enjolras in a very obvious way.

"Anyway," Enjolras said, turning back to Claire. "I'm headed to the cafe now, to meet with Marius, I'll see you at the meeting."

"Right, okay! See you there!" Claire said as he turned and walked away. Then she whirled on Grantaire.

"What? Why do you look like that?" She asked crossly.

Grantaire looked pointedly at the back of Enjolras's retreating blonde curls, then back at Claire.

"Close your mouth or you're going to catch flies." Claire said grumpily, smacking her palm against the underside of Grantaire's chin, forcing it closed with a snap.

"You like Enjolras." Grantaire said simply, taking her arm and pulling her along as he went to the closest vendor to buy a loaf of bread and a bottle of cheap wine.

"Of course I like Enjolras. Everyone does. He's the leader of the rebellion!" Claire said, blushing slightly.

"That's not what I mean." Grantaire said as he paid the vendor.

"Oh yeah? And what do you mean, then?" Claire said huffily.

"You know what I mean." Grantaire replied, tearing the loaf of bread in half and handing one of the halves to Claire.

"Who I like doesn't matter." Claire stated firmly through a mouthful of bread. "What matters most is the rebellion. We are so close!"

"Christ, you're even starting to sound like him!" Grantaire cried, plopping down on a pile of old rags and pulling Claire down beside him. "Come on, drink with me in celebration of our new discovery!"

"Your new discovery," Claire corrected. "I already knew I was a girl."

"Ay, but you discovered Enjolras." Grantaire said wisely, taking a swig from the bottle of wine and handing it to Claire.

She accepted it and took a swig from it as well. They sat in for a few hours, eating their bread and taking the occasional sips from the bottle of wine between them, watching the people as they passed and making up stories for them.

"See that one?" Grantaire said, pointing at an elderly woman smiling and handing money to a flower vendor, and Claire nodded. "She's buying flowers because her daughter is getting married in an hour."

"Or maybe she's getting married in an hour." Claire said, watching the woman hobble away.

"True. You're never too old to fall in love!" Grantaire said jubilantly.

"Tell me about Enjolras." Claire said, watching the woman as she hobbled away with her flowers.

"Ah... Young Apollo, our own marble statue." Grantaire said, looking down the street, but not really focusing on anything.

"Why do you call him that? You've said it once before, I don't understand."

"Well, as you know he's pale. That much is obvious enough." Grantaire answered. "But the other reason is that he's got such a hard demeanor. He's just stone cold and won't listen to anyone unless their talking about the rebellion. He despises everyone he considers weak. I'm not going to lie and say he's gentle on the inside, no. He's definitely capable of being terrible."

"Oh... And... Umm... Does he have a, uh... A special..." Claire stammered, trying to sound cool and collected and uninterested, but she wasn't succeeding.

"Does he have a woman?" Grantaire asked, smirking at Claire as she blushed.

"Yeah. Not that I really care, I'm just curious..."

"His virginal body and heart belong to Patria and Patria only. He has no interest in drinking for fun or for lovers, the poor man." Grantaire shook his head in mock sadness. "He's refused me multiple times when I've told him to go find a girl for the night. He's condemned himself to die without knowing the pleasures of being with a woman."

"I don't believe it, a man like him? A virgin? You're jesting." Claire said, her mouth agape.

"Ay, on this world for twenty-two years and every advance by a woman he's turned down. Every attempt to flatter and compliment is dismissed. But," Grantaire paused, and a look of admiration came to his face. "He's a natural, perfect, selfless leader, which I think is why we follow him so devotedly. Anyway, enough of this. It's time for the meeting. Come, dear 'brother,' we don't want to be late."

They downed the rest of the wine and got up, then walked, laughing, to the café. They entered the warm interior and climbed the stairs, laughing at a joke Grantaire had just said, and entered the room where the other members of the ABC were already assembled.

"You two have been drinking." Enjolras stated. It wasn't a question. "Be careful, Clark. If you choose to be around Grantaire during the day, you'll fall into his ways, and you'll spend more time drunk than sober."

Laughter from the surrounding men.

"His ways are more fun than your dullness!" Claire said drunkenly as she made her way to her usual seat.

More laughter, but Enjolras didn't answer her; instead, he addressed the group of men.

"We are so close, men! In just a few days we will be ready! I have just received word that General Lamarque, a critic of the constitutional monarchy by our bastard of a king, has fallen ill! He is at death's door, and is not expected to survive the rest of May! His death will be the turning point of our rebellion! We will fight in his name!"

The men cheered, and Enjolras waited until they were silent before he continued.

"The weaponry I have ordered is almost all here! We have a week, two at most! To the Rebellion!"

"To the Rebellion!"

"Viva la Resistance!" Enjolras yelled.

"Viva la Resistance!" The men repeated.

The men cheered some more, then separated into smaller groups of four to five to chat excitedly amongst themselves, or to play cards. Marius and Enjolras had gone back to their usual table, but they looked more flushed than usual, more excited. Grantaire went over to sit next to Claire for a while. He handed her a cup of wine.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, looking at her.

"About what?" She asked, shifting her gaze from Enjolras to Grantaire.

"About the rebellion."

"Oh. A bit. I'm excited to finally be taking action." She said, looking around the room and taking a sip from her cup.

"You know not all of us will survive." He said, looking around the room as well.

"I know. I might die. You might die. He might die. Or him. Or him." Claire said solemnly, looking at the men laughing in the candlelight.

Grantaire nodded.

"It makes me respect them all a little more." He said as he stood. "We're playing cards over there," He said, pointing to a table closer to the stairs. "If you want to join."

"No thanks." Claire said. "I'm okay here. I like watching."

Grantaire nodded again and left. After a few more hours, one by one, or in pairs, the men began trickling down the stairs. Grantaire waved before following the others. Once again, the last ones in the cafe were Claire, Marius, and Enjolras, as it had been for the last two weeks.

"Goodnight, Enjolras. Goodnight, Clark." Marius said as he went down the stairs.

Claire sat in the corner for another hour, watching Enjolras work before she picked up her cup from the table she had set it on and sat down across from him.

"You don't have to stay here every night to keep me company." He said, glancing up at her as she sat down.

"I don't mind. I enjoy it."

"Why? It doesn't seem like much excitement." He asked.

"It doesn't matter. I like watching you work."

"You what?" Enjolras looked up at her again.

"I just mean, well, sure, I like being here for the meetings, but they never seem to be taken seriously. I like seeing you work so intently because it makes the whole thing seem more real." Claire explained, trying to make him understand through her fuzzy, alcohol impaired mind. "That didn't make sense, sorry."

"No, it made enough sense. I understand what you're trying to say. It's hard to imagine that in a week, or less, this street-" he stood and walked to the large window. "Will be filled with men and boys fighting for freedom. And the barricade will be right there." He said, pointing down the street. "Right in the middle."

"How long do you think the resistance will last?" She asked, standing and moving next to him to look out the window at where he was pointing.

"As long as there are still people willing to fight." He said, looking at her.

She looked up into his gray- blue eyes, the color of the sky before sunset. They were mesmerizing. A blonde curl covered his right eye and without thinking she lifted her hand and brushed it out of his face.

"I'm drunk. Very drunk. I should go get sleep." She said, dropping her hand quickly and moving away from him.

"Do you want to read what I've got so far before you go?" He asked.

"Yes, okay." She picked up the parchment from the table and began reading, but she couldn't focus on the words, all she could think about were Enjolras's eyes on her back.

She turned and handed him the paper.

"It's very good," she noticed Enjolras looking at her intently. "I- I really like the- the part about the-the-" and then before she could think about her actions, she was kissing him, and he stiffened, putting his hands on her shoulders as if to push her away.

But then he was kissing her back, and she backed up until her back hit the wall, never breaking the kiss. One of his hands moved to the back of her neck, keeping it tilted up, and the other was placed on the wall near her head. One of her hands was on his stomach, and the other was on his neck, and it went up and her fingers tangled in his blonde curls, pulling his head closer. Suddenly he tensed and pushed himself away from her roughly.

They were both breathing heavily, and Enjolras backed up until he hit a table, and he sat on the edge of it. Claire's chest was heaving, as was Enjolras's, and they stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

"You need to go. Now." Enjolras said. "I am not like that. It was an accident, I should not have let you do that. I am drunk." He stumbled over his words because he was speaking in a rush.

Claire nodded, feeling her eyes beginning to sting.

"I am not a sodomite."

Claire nodded again, looking at the floor.

"I just ruined everything between us." She whimpered softly, more to herself than to Enjolras.

"There is nothing between us." Enjolras said turning from her. "I need you to leave, now."

"I'm so, so sorry, Enjolras." Claire muttered.

"Just go."

Claire walked down the stairs and out the door in a haze. She didn't know where she was going, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of room eleven, the door to Enjolras's room. She unlocked the door and entered. She closed the door, then began shedding her clothing. By the time she reached the bed, the only thing she still had on was her hat, and as she climbed into the bed, she dropped it to the floor. She folded the blankets around her body and fell asleep.

**If you haven't noticed by now, I'm a bit inept when it comes to ending chapters, so bear with me. This ending in particular made me cringe. ANYWAY I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and there will be another chapter up hopefully sometime this week. Don't forget to review review review! I mean, that little review box is hungry and its food is reviews, so if you don't feed it it'll die, ya' know? So don't let it starve, okay? We can start an organization: READERS AGAINTS STARVING REVIEW BOXES! REVIEW AND SAVE! **

**That was pathetic. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed!**

**~Jedss**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Alright, here's the next chapter! Yay! Thanks for reading this far! I really don't know what else to say except for enjoy!

Chapter Five

"Clark?" Grantaire's voice.

"No." Claire mumbled into her pillow, knowing that Grantaire couldn't hear her.

"Clark, if you don't answer, I'm going to come in, and I don't care if you don't have any clothes on." Grantaire said.

"Go away!" She said loud enough for him to hear.

"Sorry, what was that? I guess I have to come in..." Grantaire said, laughing.

He opened the door and saw the cocoon of blankets wrapped pathetically around Claire's form.

"You left the door unlocked last night, just so you know." He said as he closed it.

Claire muttered something under her breath and wrapped the blankets even tighter around her herself.

"Goodness, how much did you have to drink last night?" Grantaire asked, looking at the clothes tossed dejectedly on the floor.

"Too much." She whimpered, rolling over so that she was facing away from him.

"If you don't hurry we're going to miss the rally."

"I don't care."

"What? You don't care that you're going to miss the rally today?" He asked, aghast.

"No."

"What's wrong? Did something happen last night?"

"We were drunk..." Claire said, shuddering.

"And?" Grantaire pressed.

"And...He- well, no... I- I kissed...him." Claire whimpered.

"You told him you were a girl?" Grantaire asked, astounded.

"No."

"So... Let me get this straight. You were both drunk. You kissed him, and he kissed you back?" He asked questioningly and Claire nodded. "But he still believes you to be a boy." Claire nodded again.

"He got angry after. He kept telling me to leave, and that he wasn't a sod."

This time Grantaire nodded.

"Well, we still should go to the rally." He said, picking up her clothes from the floor and throwing them at her pathetic form on the bed. "Come on. Up with you. I will not hesitate to pull those blankets off you." He threatened.

Claire sat up, keeping the sheets up to her neck, and glared at him.

"I'm not changing while you're in here. Out." She said, pointing at the door.

"That's what I like to hear." He said, smirking. "I'll be right out here if you need me." He winked at her before he left.

Fifteen minutes later they were standing by the entrance to the café, watching the rally.

"-won't last a week, the doctors say!" Enjolras was telling the crowd. "Now's the time! We need to cut the fat ones down to size! Keep the faith! The people, too, must rise!" He raised his fist triumphantly, and the crowd cheered.

Enjolras and Marius jumped down from the platform, and began making their way through the crowd towards where Claire and Grantaire were standing. When they reached them and Enjolras saw Claire, he hesitated, then strode by her without acknowledging her.

" That was a great speech," Claire said, and Marius stopped and smiled at her, and Enjolras stopped too, but he refused to make eye contact with her.

"Thank you," Marius said, glowing. "Keep the faith!"

With that, they both entered the Café Musain. Grantaire looked at Claire with pity, but she just shrugged.

"I need to go change. I need to eat." She said, turning away.

"No, here. Take this." Grantaire said, holding out a few francs.

"No. I don't want your money." Claire said through her teeth. "I can make money myself."

"By what? Selling yourself?" Grantaire said, frustrated, taking her hand and closing the money in her fist.

"I will not lower myself to that, if I can help it!" Claire said, dropping the money as soon as he released her hand. "No, let go of me." She said as he reached for her arm. "I need to go." She said, and as she turned Grantaire could see that her face was streaked with almost invisible tears.

He let her go and watched her weave her way through the crowded street until she was out of sight, then he turned and entered the café.

Enjolras was looking out of the large window from the upper story of the Café Musain at the street below. It was almost empty, except for a few stragglers, and a young woman in a ragged brown and gray dress sitting on the street, holding out her hand to any passerby that looked like they might have a few coins to spare. He'd been watching her for a while now because she was the most interesting beggar he'd ever seen. Yes, she looked the part. Her face, what he could see of it from this distance, was dirty, as were her arms and bare feet. Her dress was torn and dirty as well, and her blonde hair hung limply down her back. What was curious about her, however, was that he'd been watching her for about two hours, and only two people had stopped to give her anything, but when a young boy of maybe six or seven, and just as dirty as her, had come up begging and crying to the young woman, she'd crouched down to the boy's level and placed her hands on either side of his face, using her thumbs to wipe away his tears. She'd then reached into her dress pocket and pulled out all the money she'd received and handed it to the boy.

The boy had run off excitedly, and the young woman had resumed her previous task, but it was late, and getting darker by the minute. Enjolras realized she'd just given away the only money she would get that night, and she probably knew it too, yet she did it anyway. Why?

"Enjolras, you aren't listening to a word I say, are you?" Grantaire said huffily, sitting in a chair with his feet propped up on the table.

"No, sorry, I was watching a beggar out the window. You don't happen to have any money, do you? She just gave the only money she had to a little boy..." Enjolras turned back to the window.

"Why would she do that?" Grantaire asked, stretching before he stood to look out the window at the young woman.

"Maybe she thought he was hungrier than her. Or maybe she felt compelled to help a child because she is a woman."

"Oh, I don't think that's the reason." Grantaire said, recognizing who it was. "She would give her money to anyone who asked. She's rather daft. I've met her before. Tried to give her the money I had, but she refused it." He smirked. "She probably assumes that anyone that asks a beggar for money is much less fortunate than her. But listen, you need to think of what you're going to tell the men when they get here. They'll be here in about an hour- you're still not listening, are you?" Grantaire said, and sighed. "Alright, I give up. I'm going to go relieve myself, then."

Enjolras watched the beggar pace back and forth on her bare feet, trying to see if anyone else was coming. When she seemed to realize her efforts were useless, she sat on the ground against the wall and pulled something else out of her dress pocket and began twirling it in her fingers. Enjolras was curious as to what it was. It wasn't money, it was much too long and knobby to be any kind of coin. A key, maybe? He watched her for a while longer until something out of the corner of his eye caused him to glance down the street. It was a soldier, probably off duty, and drunk, by the way he walked and the way his blue uniform was rumpled. Enjolras's attention went back to the young woman on the street, and he saw that she'd noticed the drunken soldier as well, and she stood up quickly, dropping the item back into her pocket.

The soldier had seen her, too. Enjolras watched as he swaggered up to the young woman, and watched as she stuck her hands out to him. The soldier shook in what Enjolras assumed was heavy laughter, and then he wound a hand around the girl's waist and squeezed her bottom. The girl looked shocked, then angry at this man's unwanted advances, and she pulled away and began to walk away. The soldier grabbed her left arm and she swung around and slapped him across the face. The soldier, now angered, shoved her, hard, causing her to fall to the ground. That was all Enjolras needed to see.

He was enraged. How dare this man treat this woman like she was some item he could do with what he wanted! He pulled on his red waistcoat and buttoned it as he stomped down the stairs. He slammed the door to the cafe open and strode quickly over to where the girl, on her feet again, was standing.

"Leave the girl alone! Do not touch her!" Enjolras said angrily.

"Do not touch me, sir!" Claire said angrily, pulling away from the drunk soldier's hand that had just pinched her bottom.

"Oh come on, darling, you know you want it!" The soldier said, grabbing her left arm and pulling her back.

Claire swung her whole arm back and slapped him with as much strength as she could muster, which was a considerable amount. The man cursed loudly and used both hands to shove her to the ground. Pain shot up her left arm, but she got back to her feet quickly and spat in the man's face. She was pleased to see her spittle clinging to his eyelashes and drip down onto his cheek.

"Why you little bitch! I'll getcha for tha'!" He reached for her again, but a firm hand from behind Claire knocked it out of the way.

"Leave the girl alone! Do not touch her!" a familiar voice from behind her said.

Claire turned to see Enjolras, fury burning in his eyes. The soldier looked up, surprised.

"Wha? I bet yeh just want 'er all to yerself, issa righ'?" He slurred. "Well, I found 'er firs', so go find yerself yer own slut." He grabbed her arm harshly and pulled her against his body.

She struggled, and he strengthened his grip, making her cry out in pain and frustration. He twisted her left arm behind her back. She yelped in pain again.

"I said leave her alone." Enjolras said, terrifyingly calm, advancing on the drunk man. "You don't want me to ask again."

"Or wha? Yer gonna slap me like this 'ere bitch did, eh? I'd like to see you try, pretty boy." The soldier guffawed loudly. "Haha! watcha gonna do? Hit me with your pretty boy fist? Haha-" The soldier's obnoxious laughter was cut off by Enjolras's fist slamming into the side of his face.

Claire gasped and pulled free of the man's grasp, ducking beneath Enjolras's outstretched arm to stand behind him.

The soldier clutched his face, spitting out blood and a couple teeth. He lunged drunkenly at Enjolras, but Enjolras moved aside swiftly, and the soldier lost balance and fell to the ground.

"You'll get it, you will." The soldier gasped, falling once more as he tried to stand.

Enjolras stared down at the man with such anger that Claire took a step back, frightened.

"She is not a prostitute." Enjolras said darkly.

He turned to Claire, who had backed up against a wall and was observing the scene, cradling her left arm to her chest.

"Are you alright?" Enjolras asked, taking slow steps towards her as the drunken bastard stumbled away and around the corner, cursing loudly.

Claire nodded, looking at the ground and letting her hair fall across her face so he wouldn't recognize her.

"Your arm is hurt," Enjolras said, trying to see pass her curtain of hair. "I can see it bleeding."

Claire twisted her arm so as to see her elbow. Sure enough, there was a large gash that went from her elbow the middle of her forearm, and it was bleeding rather heavily. She hadn't even noticed. It must have gotten cut when the drunk soldier had pushed her to the ground.

"May I see it?" Enjolras asked, reaching out to her. "I can wrap it, I-"

Claire flinched and dropped her left arm back down to her side, wiping it on her apron as she did so.

"I can take care of it, Monsieur." She muttered.

"If you would just come inside, I could get it cleaned up for you-" Enjolras said, gesturing towards the Café.

"No, monsieur, I am gracious of the help you've already given, I cannot trouble you any more than I already have-" Claire said, attempting to escape Enjolras's gaze and slip by him.

She needed to go back to Enjolras's room so that she could change, or else she would be late to the meeting.

"Please," Enjolras said, blocking her path. "let me help you. Just come in for a few minutes. I'll clean your wound and wrap it, then if you want, you can leave."

Claire sighed and nodded. Enjolras gently grabbed Claire's right hand and pulled her towards the café. When they had climbed the spiral stairs, they saw Grantaire dozing in a chair, his head propped up against a wall. He was snoring lightly, but he stirred and opened his eyes as Enjolras pulled out a chair for Claire.

"What? Enjolras, who?" Grantaire said groggily, but then he focused on Claire and recognition dawned on his face. "Oh. Why is she here?" He said, rather harshly.

"A drunk soldier tried to have his way with her." Enjolras answered, turning to fill a cup with wine and one with water, then grabbing a rag from a nearby table.

He took a seat next to Claire and took her left arm.

"Are you hurt?" Grantaire asked Claire quizzically, and she nodded, flashing him a warning look when Enjolras was dipping the rag into the cup of water.

"I'm sorry, this might hurt a bit." Enjolras said sympathetically, and Claire braced herself for the pain.

She bit her lip, but she couldn't help let out a low hiss when the rag made contact with her raw and sore wound.

"How did that happen?" Grantaire asked, leaning over Enjolras's shoulder and peering at the gash, which was still seeping blood.

"A soldier pushed her." Enjolras said irritably. "If you want to be helpful, you can go find something to wrap her arm in."

Grantaire grunted and headed towards the stairs, but before he descended them, he winked at Claire and said jokingly

"Be good, you two."

"I'm sorry for him," Enjolras said. "He's probably drunk already, he's rarely sober..."

"Don't apologize for his behavior," Claire said. "I think he's just a bit unhappy with me."

"What for?" Enjolras asked, surprised."Oh, I'm sorry."

He had brought the rag down on a particularly dirty and deep spot on the wound, and Claire had winced.

"No, it's alright. I think it's because I wouldn't accept his money earlier today..." She said, thinking back to her and Grantaire's little disagreement outside the café.

"Ah, yes, he mentioned that when we saw you out the window." Enjolras said, dipping the rag into the cup of wine now. "Why did you refuse it?"

"You need it more than I do." Claire replied, avoiding Enjolras's eyes.

"What do you mean? Oh, this will hurt quite a bit, I'm so sorry. I just want to make sure it doesn't get infected-" He said, dabbing the wine soaked rag onto her wound.

It burned like fire and Claire groaned and tried to pull her arm away from Enjolras, but his gentle grip on her wrist seemed to have turned into an iron manacle.

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts!" Enjolras said soothingly, waiting until Claire had stopped squirming before applying the rag to her wound again.

Claire grimaced, but did not try to pull her arm away again.

"I mean," she said between hisses. "That your cause is much more important, and he shouldn't be wasting his money on me. I've been to all of the rallies. I recognized him. I know that you need money for weapons." Claire lied, turning her head away.

Enjolras scooted his chair closer to Claire, trying to get a better angle on her elbow so that he could clean it more efficiently.

"You should have accepted his money!" Enjolras said, laughing. "We had enough money weeks ago to buy all the weapons and gun powder we needed!" He noticed Claire blushing. "But thank you. I'm happy to know that you've been to the rallies. How is that I've never seen you?" Enjolras asked, leaning closer to her.

"Oh, I'm always there. I'm always near the back. Watching without being-" She stumbled on the last word because Enjolras's face had gotten surprisingly closer to hers as she spoke, and she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. "Watched..." She continued.

Her breath seemed to be caught in her throat. This was the closest she'd been to him since last night when...

"You're hair is lying in the cut." He stated simply, and Claire looked down to see her lanky hair sticking to the drying blood.

She lifted her right hand to pull it away, but his hand beat hers to it, and he brushed the strands of hair over her shoulder, then lifted his hand to brush the hair covering the left side of her face behind her ear. His hand hovered there a moment before he brought it down to rest it on his knee.

"What do they call you?" He asked her, looking into her eyes.

"Clar- Claire. My name is Claire." She whispered, the left side of her face felt warm.

"My name is Enjolras." He said, taking the rag from where he had placed it on the table and twisting it in his fingers.

He broke eye contact and looked out the window. There was silence and Claire used the opportunity to examine Enjolras's chiseled face. Everything about him seemed chiseled out of stone, and his pale complexion made him look even more like a statue. He was obviously strong, Claire had witnessed that first hand when he'd punched the drunk soldier, but at this moment he looked unnaturally young and fragile looking. He had a fiery beauty.

"Like Apollo..." Claire whispered to herself, thinking about what Grantaire had said.

"What?" Enjolras asked, looking at her again.

"What will happen when General Lamarque dies?" Claire asked, avoiding his question.

"It will be the last blow to the people. His funeral." He replied, wondering at her curiosity. "Lamarque is the last of the old republicans who still speaks, well, spoke, I doubt he has the energy to speak anymore, for the people. I expect the funeral will be trouble, with riots breaking out, and fighting will occur. That's when we will come back here, and barricade ourselves into this cul-de-sac. This is where the revolution will take place!" He said excitedly, gesturing towards the window.

"You and the others have planned this all?" Claire asked.

She hadn't been given this much detail in the last couple of weeks; they must have planned everything before she had shown up.

"Yes. We've been planning for months. The illness of General Lamarque was unexpected, but we will prevail."

"Is... Is there anything you regret at all? About starting this...Revolution?"

"No, of course not." He said automatically.

Claire looked at him skeptically.

"If you had to regret one thing, anything, what would it be?" Claire pressed.

"If I had to regret one thing... It would be... I don't... I want..." He stopped and looked her straight in the eyes. "What I want doesn't matter. What matters is the revolution, and what will come of it."

"No! What you want matters! I believe in this revolution just as much as you do, but I also believe that you need to think of what you want as well, not just what the people want. You've been working hard for the people of France, but have you done anything, anything at all, for yourself? Anything you can look back on and think 'I enjoyed that, I would do it again'? Has there been a time at all when you weren't thinking about the rebellion?" Claire asked, leaning even closer, her voice anxious.

She didn't know why this meant so much to her. Maybe it was knowing that in a few short days, Enjolras, as well as herself and many others, could be lying dead, and Enjolras wouldn't have done anything he could look back on while he lay dying. Didn't have a nice memory he could die with.

"There was... Yes. I have done something for myself that I enjoyed and wasn't thinking about the revolution. But it was a selfish moment stolen from a time when I could have been working." Enjolras, and he glanced to the corner that Claire usually sat in at the meetings, but he looked away quickly, almost guiltily.

"But what was it?" Claire asked intently. "Maybe you can do it again! Maybe you can have another enjoyable moment!"

"No. I can never do it again. It was wrong. Very wrong. Sinful, even. It's in the past now, and it will never, ever happen again." Enjolras said firmly.

His face had gone stony again, just as it had the night before, after Claire had kissed him.

Before Claire could protest, there was a thudding on the stairs and Grantaire appeared.

"I told you two to behave yourselves..." Grantaire muttered, standing at the top of the stairs.

Only then did Enjolras and Claire realize how close they were to each other. They sat back in their chairs quickly, which made Claire slightly light-headed.

"Here, I found some strips of cloth." Grantaire mumbled, flinging the cloth at Enjolras.

Enjolras picked them up from where they landed on the floor. Then he took Claire's arm and wound each strip around it carefully, tying the ends into a knot, then tucking it under.

"There you are." He said, releasing her arm.

"Thank you. I should go, now." She said, standing.

"Do you have somewhere to go?" Enjolras asked.

"Yes, I do. Umm, I'll see you tomorrow, then?" She said. "I'll be at the rally..."

"Oh, yes, I'll see you there." Enjolras said.

As Claire passed Grantaire to go down the stairs, he nudged her and she stopped, but didn't look at him.

"Are you coming to the meeting tonight?" He hissed just loud enough for Claire to hear.

"No. Tell the others I'm not feeling well." She whispered back before going down the stairs.

A/N Okey dokey, then! I hope you liked this chapter, and yes, I know Enjolras was very OOC, sorry! Anyway, tell me what you thought! Don't let the review box starve! Viva La France!

~Jedss


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N okay, just FYI, I'm still writing chapter ten, so after I upload chapter nine, it will take probably a day or two to finish chapter ten, same with the next chapters. But, chapter nine is about 8,000 words, so hopefully you'll be distracted by that while I write. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Read and Review!**

**Chapter 6**

Claire jumped out of the bed the moment Enjolras closed the door. He'd come in to change his clothes, and Claire had been curled in the bed, coughing every few minutes to make him believe she was sick.

"You're ill." He'd said as he came in.

Claire had answered in coughs.

"Grantaire wasn't lying, then." That was the last thing he had said.

He changed quickly and was gone within ten minutes. Claire threw on her ratty dress and left the house quickly. Now that Enjolras wouldn't be expecting to see her as a boy, she could go out in the open as a girl.

She hurried onto the street and was just in time to see Enjolras and Marius getting onto the platform.

"I have only one passion!" Enjolras began in his loud, booming, fiery voice. "And that is to free the people of France to live in the glorious republic of my dreams!"

He seemed to burn from the inside, and he began to compare the leaders of France from the past to the present King.

"The time is short now! Only a few days! Lamarque is dead! Died in the night, and his funeral is set for June fifth! Only eight days! We must check on our political allies! Be ready at any moment! We will win this only if we stand together! Long live the Republic! Viva la Resistance! Viva la France!"

The crowd was in a frenzy, shouting and cheering in approval. Marius and Enjolras jumped down from the platform, and Claire could no longer see him. She pushed her way through the crowd in the direction she believed him to be in. When she arrived at the edge of the platform, she looked around carefully but couldn't see him anywhere. She saw Marius speaking to a group of supporters, but no Enjolras. She pushed her way around the crowd for fifteen minutes more before giving up and heading towards the part of the street where people were scarce. She walked lazily down the street, and before long she was in a place where the only people around were passed out drunks. She heard laughter, and it seemed very out of place in the gloom and doom of where she was.

The laughter was not the nice kind of laughter, it sounded cruel. Claire moved silently towards the voices, which seemed to be coming from a dark, dead end alleyway. She pressed herself against the wall near the entrance to the alley and peaked around the corner. There were three men. Two were quite large, and they were wearing the blue uniform of soldiers. The third was wearing a familiar red waistcoat and tie, and he was being restrained by the two uniformed men, but he was putting up a good fight.

"Enjolras!" Claire gasped.

As Claire watched, out of the shadows stepped a fourth man. He was in a blue uniform as well, but he was not as big as the other two. He swaggered up to the three men and stood in front of Enjolras.

"Ello, pretty boy." He said, smirking. "I told yeh you would get it." He said.

Enjolras lunged at him, snapping his teeth like a cornered dog, but he was restrained by the other two men. The other man laughed.

"You'll pay for what you did." With that, he swung and hit Enjolras square in the jaw with his fist.

Claire covered her mouth to keep from crying out and giving herself away. Again and again the man punched Enjolras. In the face, the stomach, the chest, everywhere he could, he was punching. He put his hands on Enjolras's shoulders and brought his knee up hard between his legs. Enjolras's head was hanging, and the only thing keeping him on his feet were the two men on either side of him. The man gave him one more good punch in the stomach, and then the two men let him fall to the ground. They each gave him a kick for good measure, and then all three of them turned and walked towards Claire, laughing and shoving each other.

Claire pressed herself against the wall and held her breath. They didn't even notice her as they sauntered past, grinning and laughing. Once they were out of sight, Claire ran into the alley that the abandoned form of Enjolras was laying.

"Oh, Enjolras, I'm so sorry!" Claire cried, dropping to her knees beside him. "I'm so, so, so sorry!"

She leaned down and pressed her ear to his chest. He was breathing, but it was shallow. His eyes were swollen and his lips and one of his eyebrows were split, and dried blood was on his chin and his nose was bleeding slightly. She saw a deep cut on the right side of his forehead, right along the hairline. She pulled his head onto her lap and pushed his curly hair up and away from his face.

"I'm so sorry!" She kept repeating. "I need to go get someone, Enjolras! Please forgive me, I need to leave! I need to get help! I'm so, so sorry!" She was crying heavily now, her tears were running down her face and dripping from her chin onto his. She wiped them off his face but she couldn't stop crying.

She heard footsteps coming up behind her but she didn't turn to look to see who they belonged too.

"What's wrong?" The person behind her said.

"Oh, Gavroche! You could not have come at a better time!" She yelled, turning her head to look at him.

She knew he didn't know who she was or how she knew his name because she'd only ever talked to him when she was dressed as a boy.

"Who're you? Who's that? Is that Enjolras? Wha' happened? What'd you do to 'im?" Gavroche yelled angrily.

"Please, Gavroche, listen to me! I can't explain right now! I'm a friend of Clark! I need you to go get Marius and Grantaire! Go! Hurry! He's really hurt!" Claire yelled, and Gavroche turned and sprinted back the way he came.

Claire turned back to Enjolras.

"He's getting help, Enjolras! Everything's going to be okay! You're going to be alright! He'll be back soon with Marius and Grantaire. I'm so sorry!" She obsessively pushed his hair out of his face. She felt him shudder and she saw his jaw clench.

"Enjolras, can you hear me? Enjolras?" He shifted and tried to roll onto his side but Claire acted as a restraint.

"I'm sorry!" She said for what seemed the hundredth time. "Please, don't try to move, I don't know... Some of your bones could be broken! You might hurt yourself-" She heard several pairs of running feet behind her and suddenly there was Gavroche, Marius, and Grantaire standing above her.

"What happened?" Marius asked, swiftly kneeling down next to Claire.

"There were three men- one was the one from last night," she looked to Grantaire for a sign of understanding and he nodded grimly. "The others must have been his friends. He wanted payback-oh, please, he needs to- He has to-" Grantaire knelt down as well and pushed Claire aside gently but firmly, and Marius helped him lift Enjolras's still form into his arms.

"We're going to his room." Grantaire said, and carried Enjolras out of the alley, with Marius, Claire, and Gavroche following quickly behind him.

In no time at all they were at Enjolras's room and Grantaire used his foot to kick the door open, luckily Claire had forgotten to lock it again. Claire pulled the covers from the bed back and Grantaire laid Enjolras down on the bed. Marius and Grantaire began unbuttoning his waistcoat, then his shirt.

"Claire," Grantaire said sternly. "Find a rag and some water, we need to clean him up." Claire nodded, puzzled for a moment about how he knew to call her Claire and not Clark, but quickly decided that Enjolras must have told him last night.

She turned and dashed out of the room. She saw the smelly old innkeeper sleeping behind his wooden desk.

"Monsieur," Claire said frantically, waking him up. "Monsieur, I need- do you have- a rag, sir? A rag and a cup! That's all I need!" Claire begged.

The old man shrugged, then shuffled through a drawer that looked like it hadn't been opened in months. He flung a dusty rag and metal cup at her and she thanked him quickly before running back to Enjolras's room.

"Here, Grantaire!" She said as she rushed in, handing the rag to him and then grabbing the pitcher of water from where it sat on the dresser.

She handed it to Grantaire as well, then pulled the chair up on the other side of the bed where Enjolras was laying, naked, a sheet pulled over his waist. She watched, worrying her hands in her lap, as Grantaire ripped the dusty rag into thirds, then dipped them each into the pitcher of water. He then filled the metal cup with water and handed it to Claire. He handed one strip to Marius, one to Claire, and kept one for himself.

"Okay, we just need to get the blood off so we can assess the wounds." Grantaire said steadily as he and Marius got to their knees to get closer to Enjolras's unconscious form. Grantaire began to wipe away blood from a cut in Enjolras's stomach.

Marius began to clean the cuts on Enjolras's upper chest, leaving the face for Claire to clean. She started with his chin, wiping the dried and crusted blood and then rewetting the cloth in the metal cup before starting on his split lips, then below his nose. She wiped the blood from his cut eyebrow, and then gently dabbed at the cut on his hairline. When the blood was gone from his face, she rewet the strip of rag again and wiped away the blood that had trickled down by his ears and neck.

"Look at the bruises... They're huge..." Marius whispered, breaking the silence that had engulfed the room.

Gavroche, who had been pacing back and forth and looking around the room, came over to look.

"He really took a beating." Grantaire said in agreement. "It looks like they were trying to kill him."

Claire let out a sound that sounded like a squeak as she set her blood-soaked rag and metal cup on the bedside table.

"Gavroche," Grantaire said. "Crawl under the bed and see if you can find any sheets, they might be stored under there."

Gavroche nodded and got down on his hands and knees to peer under the bed.

"I see...It might be a sheet.. I can't quite reach-" He flattened his stomach to the floor and slithered under the bed until only his legs were visible.

"I...Got it!" He said triumphantly, kicking his feet and struggling until he was out from under the bed.

He handed the dusty sheet over to Grantaire, who ripped it into long, thick strips. He handed them all to Claire.

"It's almost time for the meeting. We need to go and tell the men what has happened. "Wrap his chest, and cover all the wounds that you can." Grantaire said authoritatively, standing up, and Marius quickly stood as well.

"And, if he wakes up, force some of this down him." He said, moving to the dresser.

He opened one of the drawers, took out the folded clothing items, then reached back in. He stuck his hand back into the now empty drawer. He pulled out a board the exact length and width of the drawer and set it on top of the clothes.

"A false bottom?" Claire asked in surprise.

Grantaire nodded in reply, then pulled out a small bottle. It was about four inches tall and two inches wide. He set it on the other side of the dresser, then replaced the false bottom and the folded clothes. Once he'd shut the drawer, he picked up the bottle and strode over to Claire, who was still sitting in the chair. He held it out to her on his open palm and she took it from him hesitantly.

"What is it?" She asked, examining the clear liquid inside.

The bottle was about half full.

"Sometimes wine isn't enough to make you feel better. Don't give him too much." Grantaire said vaguely, turning towards the door with Marius close beside him.

"Gavroche, come on." He said sternly, and Gavroche pouted, then sulked over to the two men by the door.

"Also, if he does happen to wake, make sure you get that down him before he stands up, because you know he'll want to. He won't be very pleased to find himself bandaged up and in a bed." Marius muttered. "If he thinks for a moment he's showing weakness he'll be furious."

Grantaire tossed her his key, even though she already had one. She was puzzled, but then she realized that he was doing it so that she wouldn't have to explain why she was already in possession of one.

"Lock the door once we leave, just in case he does manage to get up. Don't give him the key, no matter what. We can't have him exerting himself right now. It could kill him." Grantaire said as they walked out the door.

Once the door was closed, Claire set the bottle of clear liquid on the small bedside table and then jumped up to lock the door. Once she'd completed this task, she sat down in the chair again and took up the strips of sheet. She took one of the strips and wrapped it gently around Enjolras's forehead, covering up the cut on his hairline and his eyebrow. She took another, preparing to wrap his chest, but then realized the difficulty. Enjolras was lying on his back, so she would have to get the strips of sheet underneath and around him somehow. Sighing, she took one of the strips in her left hand and placed that hand next to his chest on the bed, then positioned the other on the opposite side. She held her breath as she slipped her left hand under Enjolras's body until it met her right hand. She transferred the strip of sheet that was still clutched in her left hand over to her right, then she pulled her left arm back from underneath Enjolras.

He stirred and Claire froze. She watched him clench his jaw, and then his face relaxed again. Claire sighed in relief and quickly tied the sheet neatly around his upper torso. She looked at the remaining strips of sheet. There were six left. She gulped and then as fast as she could, she repeated what she'd done the first time, wrapping down his torso systematically, until she only had one more. She repeated the wrapping process once more, and as she was tying it just below his navel, she felt Enjolras's whole body tense.

She paused what she was doing, and watched, frozen, as he lifted his left hand shakily and tried to push his hair off his sweaty forehead, but his hand got stopped by the bandage wrapped around his head.

"What the...?" He groaned groggily, opening his eyes a crack.

Claire tied the last strip of sheet into a neat knot, then tucked it under the other part of the bandage. She picked up the bottle of clear liquid and struggled with the cork. Enjolras blinked slowly, still trying to take in his surroundings. He lowered his hand to his stomach, but jerked it away when he felt the bandaging. He lifted his head from the bed to glance down at his chest.

"What..? I don't- Where-" He struggled to form words, partly because he was so groggy, and partly because his lip was split and swollen and his jaw was bruised.

"Please, Enjolras," Claire said, still struggling to pull the cork out of the bottle. "Don't try to move. You're-"

He swiveled his head to look in her direction, but he moved it too fast and he dropped his head back down onto the single pillow in pain. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open slightly so that he could breathe heavily. This was probably her only chance to get him to drink the liquid, but she couldn't get the cork out of the bottle! She growled in frustration, and Enjolras turned his head towards her, much more slowly this time, and opened his eyes.

"Claire..." He rasped, more of a statement than a question.

He struggled to sit up against the headboard, but he couldn't find the strength.

"What's wrong with me?" He growled, clearly frustrated, trying once more to sit up.

He gasped in pain when he strained his abdomen.

"Enjolras, please don't try to move! Stay still, I'm begging you! You're only going to hurt yourself-" Claire said, slipping the resistant bottle into her dirty pocket and putting both hands on Enjolras's shoulders firmly and pushing him back down onto the bed. "You need to rest. Let your body heal itself-"

"What time is it?" He asked, cutting her off.

"I-I'm not sure... Almost eight?" Claire guessed, looking out the window at the dark that seemed to have engulfed the street.

Had it really been that long since Enjolras had gotten attacked? It seemed like only an hour had passed, not seven. Time flies when you're trying to keep someone alive.

"Eight!?" Enjolras cried in shock. "Have I been in this bed that long? I- The meeting! I'm going to be late! It's too close for silly injuries like this!" He yelled, and before Claire could stop him, he had thrown the sheet covering his lower half off and was striding towards the dresser in determination.

Claire stood quickly, but blushed and looked at the ground when she remembered that he had no clothes on at all. He pulled undergarments and a pair of pair of brown pants from one of the drawers and pulled them on quickly. Claire saw him stumble, and he had to steady himself on the dresser. She saw his face had gone even paler than normal and she walked towards him quickly, putting a steadying hand on his arm.

"Enjolras, please, just stay here tonight! I'm sure the men can manage without you right now! Marius is there, so it's okay! If you would just get back in the bed-" He shook her hand off, throwing on a white shirt and pulling on a blue waistcoat.

He struggled with the buttons, but he eventually got them right, and he began to battle with his boots.

Desperate, Claire pulled the bottle out of her dress pocket and hit the cork against the edge of the dresser. She tried to pull it out again and this time it slipped out of the bottle easily. She went back to the bedside table quickly and grabbed the cup. She ran to the window, opened it, and poured the bloody water out onto the street. She closed the window then hurried back to the bedside table, where the pitcher of water sat. She heard Enjolras curse from behind her. She turned quickly to see him still struggling with his boots. She turned back and filled the cup three fourths of the way with water, then discretely poured some of the clear liquid into it until the cup was filled to the brim. She put the cork back in the bottle and put it back in her dress pocket.

She turned to see that Enjolras had finished getting his boots on, and now had his hand on the doorknob. If he twisted it and found it locked, he would become furious, she knew.

"Enjolras, wait!" Claire cried, and Enjolras stopped, irritated.

He looked out of breath and exhausted already. He was sweating and the blood was starting to seep through the cloth on his head.

"Enjolras please don't! Just stay here. You have to stay here." She said sternly, walking to him and squeezing herself between him and the door so that he had no choice but to back up.

"I can't. I need to get to the meeting. Let me pass, Claire." He said, his chest heaving in exertion.

"What will Grantaire say!?" Claire said loudly, and Enjolras looked at her with annoyance mixed with slight curiosity. "What will he think if I can't even keep a cripple in bed?!"

"Cripple?" Enjolras said indignantly. "I'm not hurt that bad, I can-"

"You have bruises and cuts all over your body! You're actively bleeding! You're out of breath and all you did was put on clothes and walk to a door! How are you expecting to walk all the way to the café? You're clearly injured, and if you would just get back in bed and let me help you-"

"I don't need help!" He said angrily. "I'm not weak! Just let me pass, Claire!"

"Alright, alright..." Claire said in seeming defeat. "Just, have a cup of water before you go." She said, holding the cup out towards Enjolras.

"I don't need water, I need to be at that meeting." He growled.

"I know, I know, but Marius and Grantaire will kill me for letting you out of here anyway, but if I tell them that I was at least able to get you hydrated before you left, maybe they won't kill me too violently." Claire reasoned.

Enjolras glowered and rolled his eyes, but he took the cup of water from her anyway. He raised it to his mouth and took one swig, then lowered it and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then handed the cup back to Claire.

"Okay, are you satisfied now? May I leave-" But then he stopped.

He licked his lips, then worked his mouth as if he were trying to get something out of his teeth.

"That water... It tasted sweet... Claire, did you put something in it?" He asked, advancing on her.

"I-Grantaire said-" She stuttered.

Enjolras reached into her pocket, keeping his steely gaze locked on hers, and she felt his fingers close around the bottle. He pulled it out and glanced down to look at it. He uncorked it and sniffed, then re-corked it and put it in his own pocket.

"Opium." He said. "You put opium in the water."

"I'm sorry. Grantaire told me not to let you leave."

"I only had a mouthful. And it was diluted..." He said, mostly to himself than to her. "I can still make it."

He pushed past her and twisted the doorknob, only to find it locked. He turned towards her slowly, almost menacingly.

"Give me the key, Claire." He said in a low voice, taking a step towards her.

Claire shook her head, but her hands were trembling, and her knuckles were white as she gripped the cup.

"Give me the key, Claire." He said, taking another step towards her.

"I can't."

"I'm not going to repeat myself again." He growled.

He was only a few feet away from her now, and she had nowhere she could go. The bed was on her left, and there was a wall on her right. Suddenly, he was rushing her. She closed her eyes and flung the contents of the cup onto his approaching form. She expected to feel his body slamming into hers but when she didn't, she opened her eyes.

He was standing a foot away from her, his eyes were closed and his face was dripping wet, the opium-water mixture had hit its target. He slowly reached up with his sleeve and wiped it off. He opened his eyes gradually. His blue eyes looked as if a flame was dancing behind them as he stared straight into Claire's wide, rather worried looking gray eyes. His mouth was set in a grim line and his nostrils flared in anger. Claire was shaking so bad that the now empty cup fell from her fingers and clattered to the floor. Enjolras took the last step and put rough hands on Claire's shoulders, but then his grip loosened and he began to sway.

"Damn you." He whispered, dropping his hands and turning towards the bed.

The opium was beginning to take effect, or so Claire hoped.

"Damn you. Damn Grantaire. Damn Marius. Damn you." He repeated, as he kicked of his boots and attempted to undo the buttons on his waistcoat.

Enjolras struggled for a minute before he gave up and dropped his hands to his lap. He sat heavily down on the edge of the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and placed his head in his hands.

"Here," Claire said cautiously, stepping over the cup and standing before Enjolras's slouched form. "Let me help you with those."

Enjolras looked up at her as she held out her hands to him. He took them and she helped him stand. Now she was looking up into his eyes. She turned her focus to his waistcoat. She swiftly unbuttoned it and she moved her hands up his arms to push it off of his shoulders. Once she'd removed his waistcoat, she turned and tossed it over the chair that was still by the bed.

She turned back to see that he was watching her, his fingers twitching on the hem of his shirt.

"Do you need help with your shirt, too?" she asked, her voice wavering.

Enjolras shook his head and swiftly grabbed the fabric behind his head and pulled it off, exposing his bandaged torso. He climbed onto the bed and then stretched out on it, putting his arms behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.

"Aren't you going to take off your pants?" She asked, trying not to marvel at his muscular body stretched out on the bed.

"Did you want me too?" He asked, and Claire could see him smirking.

"That's not what I meant." She said, blushing furiously.

"Oh, no?" He said, twisting his head to look at her.

God he looked so... Fragile and strong at the same time... And fiercely beautiful.

"I think the opium is going to your brain." She said, walking past the foot of the bed to look out the window.

"That's the purpose of it." Enjolras said uppishly.

Claire heard him moving around on the bed behind her, but she paid it no mind. However, she did turn around when she felt something soft hit her in the back. She looked down to see that his brown pants had been bundled into a ball and were lying at her feet. She looked back to Enjolras, who was lying in the same position had had been in before, staring at the ceiling, except now he only had his undergarments on. The opium was sitting on the bedside table. Claire picked up the pants and put her hands on her hips. She saw his eyes flicker to her, then back to the ceiling. He had a smug expression on his face.

"Excuse me?" She said, trying not to smile. "You wanted my attention?"

"I just did what you wanted me to do." He said, grinning.

"Your attitude changed rather quickly." She said, crossing the room again and placing the pants next to the waistcoat on the chair. She stooped down and picked up his discarded shirt and placed it on the chair as well.

"You would look good in that shirt." He muttered.

"What?" She asked, turning to him.

"Well, of course, you would look better without it, but I was trying to be modest." Enjolras said, raising his eyebrows in an innocent expression.

"You are not acting like yourself. You're mad." She said, sitting down in the chair.

"You make me insane." He said, looking at her.

"No, the opium makes you insane." Claire corrected, smiling in amusement.

"Insane, angry, frustrated," Enjolras continued, ignoring her. "Furious, irritated, crazy, fascinated, excited, curious, bewildered, delirious -"

"Delirious?" Claire asked, surprised.

"Oh, that's a good one." He said, adding it to his list.

"No, no. You've already said it. What do you mean by it?" Claire said, laughing.

"You are just so...Lovely." He said, turning to her and ignoring her question again. "I just can't stop looking at you."

"I beg your pardon?" Claire said, shocked.

"I just want to stare at you." Enjolras said.

"I think the opium is making you say things you don't mean. Maybe you should close your eyes and go to sleep." Claire said.

"No, it's true." Enjolras said in earnest, sitting up on his elbows and looking at her with his fiery gaze. "It's taking all my self control to stay here on this bed."

"Enjolras, I know this is the opium speaking. I obviously put too much in that water. Go to sleep. You'll be sane in the morning."

"But I can't speak to you in this way when I'm sane." Enjolras said, shaking his curly hair and smiling.

"Yes, I know. Go to sleep." She said. "When you wake up you'll be back to your angry self."

The opium was making his eyes droop, and while it was apparent that he was trying to resist, he couldn't for long, and within five minutes, he was sound asleep. His mouth was slightly parted, and he snored lightly. Claire curled up on the chair as best she could and then she too, fell asleep.

"Claire." Claire stirred, but didn't wake.

"Claire, wake up." There was a hand shaking her knee and she opened her eyes drowsily.

The first thing she noticed was how cold it was in the room. She must not have shut the window all the way.

"What? Enjolras, do you need something? Are you cold? Are you in pain? Where do you hurt?" Claire was alert now, and the hand on her knee was withdrawn.

She could barely see Enjolras in the gloom. The candle must have burned out.

"No, I'm alright." Enjolras asked.

"How long have you been awake?" She asked, standing to relight the candle and close the window all the way.

"An hour, maybe. What did I do? Did I say anything to you? And why don't I have pants on?" He sounded so glum and confused.

After lighting the candle, Claire went and sat back down in the chair. He back ached and she had goose bumps.

"You don't remember taking your pants off?" She asked, smirking.

"The last thing I really clearly remember is sitting on the bed. There are some blurry things, but other than that I don't remember anything. Don't mock me."

So he didn't remember what he said to her, or when she helped him take off his waistcoat. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or crushed.

"Well, really all that happened was that I helped you take off your waistcoat, you took off your shirt and pants, we talked for a bit, and then you fell asleep." Claire said.

It was technically all true.

"What did we talk about?" He asked, sounding curious but also anxious.

"Umm... Well, we talked about..." Claire hesitated, and Enjolras groaned.

"It was that awful? I'm so sorry, I wasn't myself, I-" He said apologetically, but Claire cut him off.

"No, don't fret. It was nothing bad, I promise. You just said that I make you insane, mad, angry, irritated, furious, and other things..."

Enjolras cringed at every word, and when Claire finished speaking, he furrowed his brow and slapped himself in the forehead.

"I can't express how sorry I am. If there's anything I can do. I didn't mean any of those things..." Enjolras was angry now, but not at Claire, at himself.

"How long have you been thinking about this? Claire asked, yawning.

"A while. I woke up and have just been trying to remember what happened. It's like someone has just cut off my memory right after I sat down. It's all black. I'm sorry to have woken you, it's not important." Enjolras said, seeing how tired Claire was.

"No, no, I'm glad you woke me up. I should check your bandages." She stood up and stood over Enjolras.

She checked the wraps on his torso, and there were only a couple spots where the blood had seeped through, and it was dry blood, so the bleeding had probably stopped. The one on his head was a little bloodier, but she didn't dare unwrap it in case the wrapping pulled off any formed scab.

"Well, you're not dying, which means I've done my job well enough. Do you want me to blow out the candle?" She asked, as she moved away from the bed. Enjolras followed her with his eyes.

"You can blow out the candle, if you would like." He said, and she did, throwing the room into darkness.

She made her way back to her chair and tried to get comfortable, but she couldn't, because the chair was hard and she couldn't get warm. Right as she was about to give up and lie down on the floor, Enjolras spoke up.

"That doesn't look comfortable." He said, watching her squirming on the chair.

"No, it's not, really, but I can sleep on the floor-"

"There's no need to lie on the floor when there's a bed in the room." Enjolras said, scoffing. "I wouldn't make you sleep on the floor. There's space."

He rolled onto his right side and lifted the blankets up in a very tempting way.

"No, Enjolras... Are you sure the opium is completely worn off?" Claire said. "I mean, I can sleep on the floor. My dress is dirty-Hell, I'm covered in dirt, and I probably smell-you don't want me in there with you." She said in a rush, her heart thudding against her chest at just the thought of being in a bed with Enjolras.

"I'm sure the opium has worn off. And you could take the dress off-" He said, and Claire looked at him in shock-"and put on that shirt." He finished, pointing at the shirt Claire had set on the chair.

"And if you're worried about being covered in dirt and smelling bad, there's water right there." Enjolras muttered, pointing to the pitcher of water on the bedside table.

Claire hesitated. The bed was soft, and probably warm, because Enjolras was there. And he wasn't the type to make unwanted advances... Finally she nodded.

"Don't look." She whispered into the dark, and she could see Enjolras cover his eyes with his palms cooperatively, smiling at her self-consciousness.

Claire slipped her dress over her head and stood, shivering, in her undergarments. She went to the pitcher and poured some water onto her palm (God, it was cold!), then rubbed it on her face, arms, legs, neck, and underarms. She repeated this three times, until she convinced herself that she didn't have any more dirt on her. She ran the rest of the water through her hair. Luckily, since she'd had it stuffed up in that hat for a long time, it hadn't really been exposed to the elements, like dirt and grime that much, but it was still quite lanky and a bit greasy from lack of washing, so she did the best she could with the water.

Once finished, she turned to Enjolras, his palms were still over his eyes, but he looked as if he had fallen asleep again. She pulled his shirt over her head. It went down to about mid-thigh, and it smelled like the café, wine, and manly muskiness. She walked to the other side of the bed, the side his back was facing, and silently climbed in, trying not to wake him. She was shaking, out of nervousness and cold, and she stayed at the edge of the bed, afraid to touch him.

"Mmm, Finally." He muttered, and Claire stiffened; she had thought he was sleeping. "I was beginning to think you'd chosen to sleep on the floor after all." He rolled over lazily, and his legs pressed against hers slightly.

"God, you're cold as ice!" He exclaimed. "Come here, you're going to catch your death, I swear!"

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to his body. She was still stiffened, but she slowly, very slowly, relaxed against him. Her back was pressed against his chest, his right arm was flung over her, holding her to him, and her head was resting on his left arm.

"You're shivering." He said, almost laughing. "Are you still cold?"

"Not as much..." She said, thankful that it was dark so that he couldn't see her face.

He seemed so relaxed, and Claire could feel his slow breathing, which contrasted with her rapid inhales and exhales.

"What were the other things I said?" Enjolras murmured into her damp hair.

She suppressed a gasp at the sensation of his warm breath tickling her ear.

"Other things?" She squeaked.

"You said that I said other things. What did I say?"

"Oh. You said that I make you fascinated, excited, curious, bewildered, delirious-" She began.

"Delirious?" He asked the same way she had earlier.

"Yes... You never told me what you meant..." Claire said.

"I'm afraid I don't know what I meant. I don't know what I meant by any of it. But you most definitely do not make me insane, angry, frustrated, furious, irritated, or crazy." Enjolras said apologetically, rubbing her arm in a way he might have thought was a casual, repentant gesture, but it made Claire feel as if her veins were about to burst into flames.

"Well," She said, trying to keep her voice from faltering, but God, his hand moving up her arm was distracting. "I might have been making you feel all those things earlier. I mean, I did put opium in your water to keep you from leaving-"

"Ah, yes, the opium. I won't lie and say that didn't make me angry. I was furious at that. That a small girl-"

Claire scoffed.

"Small girl?" She asked indignantly.

"Young woman, then." Enjolras said, chuckling. "That a young woman could weaken me enough to make me almost fall to the floor. I was humiliated that I wasn't strong enough to even leave this room." He said, sounding quite miserable.

"It wasn't me," Claire said quickly. "It was the opium. If I hadn't gotten you to drink that water, and I know you only did it because you wanted me out of the way, you wouldn't be here right now!"

"How do you know where I would be?" Enjolras said jokingly, but Claire realized she had just made a big mistake.

She couldn't tell him that she'd been sleeping here every night for over two weeks, because as far as Enjolras knew, the only person that had been sleeping here was Clark.

"I just assumed that you'd still be at the café. Which is silly, of course you'd be here, it's so late..." Claire said, struggling to come up with an adequate answer.

"No, you're right, actually." Enjolras said. "I'm at the café all night, most nights. Working on the next day's speech for the rally. I end up sleeping there, so I'm not here that often. I let one of the young men sleep here, actually. Well, he's more of a boy, really. I wonder where he is..." Enjolras said, thinking out loud.

"Who is he?" Claire asked, feigning curiosity.

"His name is Clark. He joined our cause about two weeks ago. He had nowhere to stay so I gave him one of my keys. He was sick this morning, though; couldn't get out of bed. He must have been feeling better. He might still be at the café. He liked to stay late to keep me company..." Enjolras said.

He seemed to be trying to hide the worry in his voice.

"What's wrong? You seem worried..." Claire pressed.

She wanted to know what he thought of her boy persona.

"Well, he just seemed really sick this morning. And, we had a... A- A kind of disagreement of sorts... I'm hoping that he didn't think I was kicking him out... His bag is still here, though..." He muttered.

"What do you think of him?" Claire asked, hoping she didn't sound as obvious as she thought she was being.

"He's... Very eager about the cause..." Enjolras began slowly, almost cautiously. "He's more serious about it than many of the other men, but..."

"But?" Claire asked, dreading his answer.

"He has this... Innocence about him... He almost seems delicate, and I also think... But it doesn't matter. You're fighting back a yawn, don't try to deny it. We both need some sleep."

Claire nodded, feeling her eyes droop .It was hard not to feel drowsy when she was pressed up against Enjolras's warm body. The last thing she was aware of before she fell asleep was Enjolras running his fingers through her still slightly damp hair.

**A/N So, yeah... You can practically cut the sexual tension with a steak knife... Umm... *cough* *cough* Right... Well, especially because of this juicy chapter, I don't expect to see the review box starve, but just in case, you should drop a review in the box! Because review boxes are hungry all the time, so... Yeah. Hope you enjoyed! Review review review!**

**-Jedss**


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Alright, sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up! My week has been pretty busy and exciting. I started my acting camp (I got a lead! Antiphalus of Ephesus!) And I was an extra in a movie where I met Jonathan Bennett from Mean Girls, so that was pretty exciting. Fun fact, Jonathan Bennett is a fan of Les Misérables, and he, my sister, and I sang Red and Black in between takes. (He also likes Wicked, Phantom of The Opera, and Next to Normal. We sang songs from them, too), and apparently he goes to the same gym as Aaron Tveit *screams and jumps around wiggling my butt in excitement before sitting back down* (he showed me a picture on his phone of Aaron Tveit sitting on a bench outside the gym as proof). Sometimes living in Alaska has it's perks. :) If you want proof that this actually happened, you can go to standing-in-the-clouds on tumblr and scroll down until you find the picture of us. Don't forget to follow me! Anyway, that was my week in a nutshell, I hope your week was just as exciting. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter seven

Claire woke with sunlight filtering in through the window and shining onto her face. She rolled over slowly and gasped when she saw Enjolras sprawled on the bed next to her. He was on his back, his right arm behind his head, his fingers entwined in his dusty blonde hair, and his left hand resting lazily on his bandaged stomach, which was rising and lowering with each slow inhale and exhale. The events of the night before came back to Claire quickly.

She slowly, so as not to wake Enjolras, climbed out of the bed and walked around the foot of it, making her way to the chair. As she was pulling the comb that was in the top drawer of the dresser through her hair, she heard a long, content sigh from the direction of the bed, and then the sound of Enjolras rolling over.

Once Claire had finished combing her hair, she turned to see Enjolras watching her groggily.

"Good morning," Claire said cheerily as Enjolras rubbed his eyes and sat up against the headboard. "How do you feel?"

"I feel fine." He said, throwing the covers off his legs and scooting so that he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I still want to check the bandages." Claire said, walking to him. "Can you stand up?"

"Of course I can stand up." Enjolras said, getting to his feet.

Claire saw him wince, but she pretended not to notice.

"I'm going to take the bandages off, okay? I'll put them back on when I'm finished rewashing the wounds." Claire explained. "This will be so much simpler because you're not lying down..."

She untied the knots from the bandages around his chest and gathered them up and turned to set them on the chair. She turned back and examined his bruises and cuts. She walked all the way around him with her arms folded before coming to a stop before him.

"Well, the bruises don't look nearly as bad as they did yesterday, however, that may be because they were covered in blood."

Enjolras snorted.

"Anyway," Claire continued, ignoring him. "The cuts have scabbed over and aren't actively bleeding, so that's good, as long as you don't pick at them or accidentally cause them to open again. I am a little worried about that one there-" She pointed her finger to a particularly nasty gash that went from right below his left breast to his left collar bone. "It's long, and looks deep... He must have been wearing a ring or something really sharp... Keep an eye on it. I don't think I need to put the bandages back as long as you're careful."

Enjolras nodded and sat back down on the edge of the bed so that Claire could unwrap the strip of sheet around his head.

"Ugh," Claire grimaced as she unwrapped the bandage. "Here, one moment, let me grab the rag-"

"Why, what's wrong?" Enjolras asked, twisting on the bed to try and see his reflection in the window.

"It's just... Umm, a bit... There's a bit of pus," Claire explained as she poured the remnants of water from the pitcher onto the rag and went back to Enjolras. "It's the one by your hairline... It looks really red-" She pressed the rag gently on the cut and smiled apologetically when Enjolras took a sharp intake of breath.

"I'm sorry; I just need to get this pus out of the wound. There, okay, let me see..." She pulled the rag back and looked at the cut.

The edges of the cut had sealed back together, but all around it was red and enflamed.

"It looks a bit infected," She said, trying to sound calm, but her voice shook.

She knew that infections could kill people. If even the smallest cut got infected it could become life- threatening. She turned around, trying to think of something she could do, and she felt Enjolras's hand on her wrist.

"Hey," He said, turning her back around so that she was looking at him. "Calm down. I feel okay." He said reassuringly. "I could do with something to drink, though-"

"Alcohol!" Claire exclaimed, turning around again and striding towards the dresser.

"I was thinking more like water or-" Enjolras said, but Claire cut him off.

"No, no! That's not what I meant, one second-" She said, opening the drawer that Grantaire had opened the day before.

She pulled out the clothes and set it on top of the dresser, and then she carefully lifted the false bottom up.

"Come on, Grantaire, you must have something in here..." She muttered, picking up the numerous bottles of opium and setting them aside. "Here..." She muttered, pulling out a slightly larger bottle of slightly greenish liquid.

"What is this?" She asked, handing it to Enjolras.

She returned the bottles of opium and the fake bottom, and then she put the clothes back in the drawer and shut it. She turned and walked back to Enjolras.

"Absinthe." He said, handing it back to her. "It seems Grantaire has more of a drinking problem than we thought."

Claire stood in front of him struggling to pull the cork out of bottle.

"Here, I can-" Enjolras said, reaching for the bottle again, but Claire shook her head and took a step back.

"No, I've got it." She said.

She brought the bottle up to her mouth and put the cork between her teeth. She twisted the bottle to the side sharply, and she felt the cork give a little.

"Almost got it," She said around the cork.

She gave the bottle one last tug and the cork came out with a pop. She staggered back a few steps then looked up triumphantly. Enjolras shook his head, trying not to smile. Claire walked to the bedside table and picked the rag up again and poured a little of the Absinthe onto it. She set the bottle down and moved closer to Enjolras.

"I don't know how well this will work," Claire said.

She pressed the rag back onto Enjolras's enflamed cut. He sucked in a breath and his jaw hardened, but he stayed where he was, and didn't pull away.

"Let's just call that payback for when you put wine on my cut two days ago." Claire said, taking the rag away and winding the bandage back around his head.

"Is that cut getting better?" Enjolras asked her, gesturing to her left arm.

"Yes, it's fine. Almost healed, actually. It wasn't as deep as I thought." She said, twisting her arm around so that Enjolras could see her elbow.

"Wow. It's completely scabbed over." He said.

Claire nodded as she walked over to the chair where she had placed Enjolras's clothing.

"Here's your pants, your boots, your jacket-" She said, tossing each item at him in turn.

"Ahem." He said, and Claire turned around questioningly.

"What? Stop looking at me like that and put your clothes on."

He obliged by pulling on his pants and boots, but he stopped there and looked at Claire, smirking.

"What?"

"I need the rest of my clothing." He said, looking her up and down.

"What do you mean? I handed you your-" and then she remembered.

She was wearing Enjolras's white shirt, and she looked down at it, blushing.

"Sorry, I forgot. Turn around and put your hands over your eyes." She directed, and Enjolras did as he was told, turning to face the bed.

Claire slipped out of the shirt quickly and pulled her dirty dress on.

"Okay, here." She said, throwing the shirt at the back of Enjolras's head.

He turned quickly and caught the shirt before it hit the floor. He pulled it over his head and then tucked it into his pants. He pulled his blue waistcoat over his shoulders and buttoned it up expertly. He looked at Claire and confusion mixed with recognition flashed across his face.

"I've only ever seen you when your face was covered in dirt and had uncombed hair," He said quietly, taking a few steps closer to her and studying her face.

"Well, I washed both last night, and I used your comb to brush my hair this morning." Claire said, looking away from his face and instead stared intently at the floor.

"No, look at me." He said, and Claire lifted her eyes. "No, I want to see your face, too."

"Why?" Claire asked, lifting her chin and looking at him grumpily.

"I saw a woman who looked very similar to you about two weeks ago." He said.

"That's odd." Claire said, unsure of what he was talking about.

"It was at the rally when we were given a large amount of money by a 'young angel', as Grantaire says." Enjolras said.

"Thrilling, I'm sure." Claire said.

She knew what Enjolras was talking about, now. On that day she remembered making eye contact with him as he was speaking passionately about the cause. She remembered it because as her eyes had met his, and his voice had faltered.

"She was in a blue dress. I haven't seen her since. She looks like you." He said, frowning.

"Oh, yes, I know who you're talking about," Claire said nonchalantly. "I saw her. She was not from around here, I think. I think she was British..." Claire lied.

"Oh, yes, well, funny how similar unrelated people can look." Enjolras shrugged, pulling the comb Claire had just used through his own golden curls.

"Very humorous."

"I need to find Marius," Enjolras said, and Claire nodded. "Do you mind unlocking the door?"

"Right. Okay." Claire moved to the door and used the key to unlock it.

Enjolras moved passed her and swung the door open.

"Claire," He turned back to her. "Thank you for helping me yesterday."

"I'm just happy I got there in time." Claire whispered, handing the key to him.

He took a step towards her and lowered his face towards hers. Her breath caught in her throat as he turned his face to the side and kissed her on her right cheek. He straightened up again and went back to the door.

"Will you be here again tonight?" Enjolras asked.

"I wasn't planning on it... I thought you said that boy Clark-" Claire started, but Enjolras cut her off.

"Well, he might not be here tonight. Be here anyway?" He asked, looking at her.

"Yes, of course." Claire said, melting inside.

Enjolras smiled and was just about to close the door, but he turned back one last time and smirked at her.

"Also, you don't smell... Too much." He slammed the door closed, laughing, before Claire could come up with a good comeback.

Claire stripped from her dress once the door had closed and slipped into her boy clothes. As she left the room she folded her hair up under her hat and pulled it down so that it cast a shadow over her eyes. Fifteen minutes later she was standing in the crowd at that days rally. Marius was doing most of the talking today, because Enjolras was using all his strength to stay standing. She cheered with the rest of the crowd at the end of it, and then she wandered around the streets. She found a few sous that must have been dropped accidentally, and she picked them up and bought half a loaf of bread. She as she continued to wonder until it was almost time for the meeting. At eight o'clock she was on the second floor of the Café Musain, sitting dutifully in her corner as the rest of the Friends of the ABC assembled, and that's where Enjolras found her, sipping her wine slowly and chatting lightly with Grantaire.

When Grantaire saw Enjolras making his way towards them, he gave Claire a look and scooted away, but stayed close enough so he could hear the conversation.

"Are you feeling any better?" He asked, almost too politely.

"Yes, I'm feeling fine." Claire said,staring up at him.

"Are you still staying in my room?" Enjolras said, not making eye contact.

"No, I've found a new place to sleep, but if I could still keep my bag there-" Claire lied smoothly, knowing this conversation was going to happen.

"Yes, yes, of course you can. I hope you don't feel that I've kicked you out." Enjolras said stiffly.

"No, not at all. Thank you for your charity." Claire said back just as curtly. Enjolras nodded curtly and turned to address the men.

Grantaire scooted back to her.

"So where are you staying now?"

"Enjolras's room." Claire said, downing her wine and setting the cup on the table.

"But you just told him...?" Grantaire said, confused.

"Oh, what does it matter to you?" Claire asked, smiling half-heartedly as she stood to stretch. "I'm going to get some water. Do you need anything?"

Grantaire shook his head and watched as Claire's malnourished form made it's way through the crowd of men and down the spiral stairs.

Claire left the meeting much earlier than she ever had before, because she wanted to have enough time to change into her peasant dress by the time Enjolras went back to his room, if he was even going to go back to his room. She was there and in her dress in less than twenty minutes, but she needn't have rushed. Hours passed and Enjolras didn't show. She sighed and slipped her dress back over her head and put on one of Enjolras's white shirts. She climbed onto the bed and curled up under the covers. She was asleep almost instantly.

By the time Enjolras had returned to room eleven, it was nearly four in the morning and he wasn't surprised to see Claire curled up under the covers, sleeping soundly. He pulled his boots and pants off, unbuttoned his waistcoat and shrugged it off, and pulled his shirt off. He climbed into the bed next to Claire and pulled her small form to him, causing her to sigh slightly and roll over unconsciously. He suppressed a laugh when he saw her frown in her sleep, her eyebrows furrowing together. He wondered what she could possibly be dreaming of to cause that look of vexation on her face. He sighed and closed his eyes, knowing that in only a few short hours, he would have to wake again.

Despite my interactions with celebrities and my lead in a Shakespeare play, I still can't end a fanfiction chapter well. I know the ending of this one sucks, I'm sorry! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next one will be up soon! And remember, DON'T LET THE COMMENT BOX STARVE! IT'S BEEN A WEEK SINCE IT'S EATEN AND IT MUST BE RAVENOUS, SO PLEASE PLEASE FEED IT! Thanks for reading!

Adequate amounts of love,

~Jedss


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Alrighty, so here's chapter eight. I was sitting here for an hour trying to work up the guts to upload this one and finally my sister had to say "Jedss, grow a pair of balls and upload the damn thing!" So I hesitantly did. WARNING! There IS sex in this chapter, which is why I was so nervous to upload it. It's not detailed at all, it's not smutty, but the two characters do end up stripping each other, so basically make sure you proceed with caution if this isn't something you want to read. My goal was to keep this T rated, and hopefully I succeeded in that. Again, it's NOT DETAILED. I couldn't bring myself to write smut. I blushed the entire time writing this one, there's no way I could write anything more detailed. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter, hopefully chapter nine will be up soon. After chapter nine, however, it may take a while to get chapter ten up because I'm still int he process of writing it.**

**Chapter Eight**

This pattern continued for five days. Claire would wake up and Enjolras would either be getting dressed and on his way out the door or he would be completely gone. Claire would change into her boy clothes and go to the rally, then walk around by herself or with Grantaire and Gavroche until the meeting started. She would sit in her corner at the Café Musain until the meeting was over, then she would go to Enjolras's room, change into her dress, and beg for a couple of hours, sometimes getting enough for a loaf of bread or a small cooked chicken. She'd sit inside the wine shop next to the Café Musain to eat and pick up gossip and news, such as the latest lead on the princess's disappearance, or whose shoes didn't match whose dress, and other mildly important things like that. Then, around midnight, when she was finally kicked out of the wine shop by the owner, she'd go back to Enjolras's room, put on the shirt she'd accepted as nightgown, and get into the bed. At some point during the night, Enjolras would show up, tired and weary, and he'd climb into bed and pull her too him. It never went farther than just sleeping, though. It was for the comfort of human contact, and it left them both content.

The day before Lamarque's funeral, however, the routine changed. Claire woke up and rubbed her eyes lazily, expecting to be alone, only to find Enjolras lying next to her, playing with a strand of her hair and looking up at the ceiling.

"Enjolras, what are you still doing here?" Claire asked, shocked and confused.

"We aren't having a rally today. The people know that tomorrow is Lamarque's funeral, and they are getting prepared for the barricade. We are getting the last of the guns and gunpowder today." Enjolras answered, glancing out the window at the gray, stormy sky. "I'll be at the Café Musain all day."

"What will you be doing?" Claire asked, genuinely curious.

"Going over the plan for tomorrow, teaching the men how to load the guns, telling Marius to get over his lovesick ass-"

"Marius is lovesick?" Claire asked gleefully, earning a glare from Enjolras.

"Yes, it seems he's fallen in love with a young woman." He said, looking back at the ceiling. "He's been having Gavroche run love letters back in forth almost nonstop since, the poor boy. I need to go." Enjolras climbed out of the bed slowly and got dressed.

"I'll see you tonight, then. I'll be here earlier..." He said as he closed the door.

Claire climbed out of the bed once the door had closed and changed into her boy clothes quickly. She left the room and started to head towards the Café Musain, but she stopped when she saw Gavroche run past with a note clutched to his chest.

"Gavroche, wait!" Claire called after the boy, and he stopped.

"What?" He asked, breathing heavily.

"This girl Marius is so infatuated with... What's her name?" Claire asked curiously.

"I don't know! Colette, maybe? Here, I'll show you, follow me." He said, and he led Claire through the winding streets until they came to a small house with a large garden.

The house was surrounded by a wall and had a gate that led into a large rectangular garden. Gavroche picked up a small stone from the ground at threw it at a window to the right. Claire backed up into the shadows so as not to be seen from whoever was within. A face appeared in the window, then the door opened slowly and a blonde girl with a round, elegant face walked gracefully up to the fence.

"Hello, Gavroche, oh, thank you so very much! Here are the three sous I promised, oh, and here, I have a letter for you to give to Marius. Farewell!" The girl turned and disappeared back into the house.

"Her name is Cosette." Claire said. "I've met her before, almost three weeks ago. Her and her father introduced themselves... So... Marius has fallen in love with her."

Gavroche nodded and they walked, slower this time, back up the winding street until they reached the Café Musain. They entered the crooked building and climbed the spiral stairs. They were met by the sullen faces of The Friends of the ABC. They were barely at the top of the stairs when Marius appeared before them.

"Gavroche, did you give her the note?" Marius whispered.

Gavroche rolled his eyes to the ceiling and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Yes. Here's the one for you-"

"What's all this secrecy about?" Grantaire asked joyously as he approached Claire.

He was already quite drunk. He snatched the note from Marius's hand and unfolded it.

"Grantaire!" Marius said loudly, trying to snatch the paper back, but Grantaire spun away and began reading the note silently to himself.

His face went from excitement to confusion, and finally to blatant shock as his eyes traveled back and forth while reading. He set the paper down on the table and looked at Marius, thunderstruck.

"I am agog! I am aghast! Could it be that Monsieur Marius is finally in love?" Grantaire said loudly enough that every man in the room turned to look at him. "He's like Don Juan! This is better than an opera!"

"Enough of this!" Came Enjolras's strong, and rather angry, voice from across the room.

He strode to Grantaire and snatched the parchment off the table and crumbled it into a ball, then flung it at Marius, who fumbled to catch it.

"Who cares about your lonely soul?" He said, advancing on Marius. "Our lives mean nothing to this cause! We strive towards a higher goal!" He made to turn around but Marius caught his arm.

"If you had been there that day you might know how it feels," Marius began, and Enjolras rolled his eyes. "How your life can change in just a single moment. It's as if my life means nothing if she's not there!"

"I have no interest in conventional beauty and comfort! Things like that are pointless now! Not with Lamarque's funeral tomorrow!" He lowered his voice and glared at Marius. "Do you think this is a game, Marius? Have you given any thought to what you might be sacrificing? To what everyone in this room might be sacrificing? We are too close to be distracted by senseless things such as _women!_"

Claire grunted indignantly, but the only one who noticed was Grantaire, who smirked at her and winked.

"The rest of the guns are here now." Enjolras said, turning his back on the fuming Marius to address the rest of the men. "I will teach you how to load them quickly and efficiently." He went back to the table he had previously been sitting at, and which was now ladened with a large amount of guns.

From where Claire stood at the top of the stairs, she could count twenty, not including the small hand pistols that were scattered about. Most of the guns on the table were long rifles with sharp bayonets attached to the end. There were more guns than there were men, but Claire figured this was a good tactic.

The guns were passed around and within a few minutes, everyone was holding a pistol and a rifle. Claire took her load to her usual corner and watched the more experienced men help the inept men practice cleaning and loading their guns. Grantaire made his way over to her and leaned against the wall beside her.

"I don't feel comfortable with you being exposed to this, Claire." He said.

"I don't care how you feel. I'm fighting at the barricade tomorrow and you aren't going to stop me. Really, I'm the one that should be concerned. I personally don't feel comfortable with you being drunk and in possession of a gun." She answered defiantly, using a metal rod to shove a rag down the barrel of her rifle.

"A girl shouldn't be handling a gun." Grantaire said a little too loudly for Claire's comfort.

"Shh! You're going to give me away!" Claire hissed angrily. "And as of right now, I'm not a girl, I'm a boy, and I'm not Claire, I'm Clark."

"Well, Clark, how the hell did you learn how to load a rifle?" He asked as he struggled with his own.

"I've used a rifle before." Claire answered.

"You've used a rifle before? You? A girl?" He whispered back, dismayed at being less experienced than a female.

"You don't believe me?" Claire asked smirkingly, looking up at him.

"No, I believe you; I just don't believe you're as good as you're trying to look." Grantaire said, trying to regain some of his lost pride by insulting her masculinity.

Claire raised her eyebrows at him, and in one fluid motion her pistol was loaded, cocked, and pointed between Grantaire's legs. Since they were in the shadows, no one noticed Grantaire's predicament.

"I'd say I'm pretty good." She replied, withdrawing the gun slowly and putting it at half-cock.

Grantaire let out a nervous chuckle and sank into a chair, his face pale.

"How'd you learn to use a gun? Did you go hunting or something?" He asked her.

"You could call it hunting."

"What did you hunt?"

Claire was silent for a moment.

"People." She whispered finally.

Now it was Grantaire's turn to be silent. He stared at her, trying to figure out if she was being serious or not.

"You're joking." He decided, smiling at her.

"I wish I was."

"Wait..." Grantaire became serious again, and he frowned. "You're not lying?"

"Yes."

"Yes you are not lying?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you are lying?"

"No."

"No you are not lying?"

"_Yes._"

"Yes, you are not lying?" He said again.

"Grantaire, if you don't stop right now I'm going to-"

"I don't believe you!" Grantaire said loudly, causing a few of the men to look in his direction.

Claire stood up calmly and set the guns on the table before turning her steely gaze back to Grantaire.

"I have killed people, Grantaire, many men are dead because of me. I know you think I am lying but I am not." She said, her voice rising with every word. "You might say it was for a noble cause, but taking someone's life is a thing I will never forget. I won't forget what happened then, and I won't forget what happens tomorrow. Killing never feels noble when you're in the process of taking someone's life."

Grantaire looked up at her, dumbstruck, as did many of the men nearby, including Marius and Enjolras.

"Tomorrow will be a noble cause, too." Claire said, quieter now. "And I will take my place at the barricade and fight for what's right, but we can't forget that the men fighting against us are men, not just pawns, and they're fighting for what they think is right, too."

She sat back down on her stool, her hands shaking, and refused to make eye contact with Grantaire. Instead she glared at the assembled men, who had resumed chatting and laughing. There was a kind of excited energy in the air, and it made Claire sick. Every time someone, usually Grantaire or Courfeyrac, offered her a cup of wine, she refused. She spent several hours there, listening to the plans.

"Gavroche will raise the red flag when the funeral parade has rounded the corner- Grantaire, put the bottle down! - And that will be the signal for us to-" Enjolras was saying when Claire saw Marius slipping away down the stairs, another note gripped in his fist.

Claire stood up and followed him out, it was getting late, anyway, and Enjolras said he would be at the room early.

"Marius, hold on, wait for me!" Claire said as she stepped out onto the street darkened and saw Marius hurrying away.

It was raining faintly and Claire hugged her jacket tighter and pulled her hat down lower on her head. Marius stopped and turned around.

"Are you going to see Cosette?" Claire asked, catching up to him.

"Yes, I- how do you know her?" Marius asked suspiciously, eyeing her up and down.

"Gavroche showed me where she lives. I recognized her. I've met her before..." Claire said as they walked along. "I was begging and she and her father kindly gave me some sous and introduced themselves..."

Marius nodded in acknowledgment to what she had said and they continued to walk in silence until they reached the gate that lead to Cosette's home. The windows were dark, but Marius seemed not to care. He climbed over the fence quickly and dropped down to the other side.

"I'll just stay here, then." Claire said quietly from the other side of the fence as Marius jogged to the window that belonged to Cosette.

Claire paced back and forth, looking at the ground, as she waited for Marius to return, but he was taking a long time. It began raining much harder, soaking through her clothes and hat, and she was considering leaving without him when a damp, folded piece of paper on the ground at the base of the fence caught her eye. Marius must have dropped it when he was climbing over. Claire stooped down and picked it up.

"Marius," she called softly. "You dropped your note."

He didn't answer. She looked down at the damp note in her hands and tried to resist the urge to unfold it. Surely he wouldn't mind if she just peeked, would he? She unfolded it carefully and began to read.

_**Dearest Marius,**_

_**My love, my father has been shaken to the core by something's, or someone's, presence and is insistent that we leave immediately. He is taking me to Paris, and then we will get a passage to London. Nothing I could do would sway him. I'm going to try to persuade him to stay in Paris longer, but I don't think my efforts will do any good. I'm so sorry! I love you!**_

_**Love forever,**_

_**Cosette**_

Claire stared at the note in her hands, shocked.

"Marius!" She yelled, but her voice shook. "Marius! Marius you need to come here! _Marius_!"

She saw Marius appear from around the side of the house. He looked slightly worried. He came to a stop on the other side of the gate.

"What, Clark? Is something wrong? I can't seem to get Cosette to notice I'm out here. I tried knocking on her window, but the shades are drawn, and-" He stopped when Claire held the note out to him.

He reached between the bars of the fence and took the letter from her. His eyes scanned over the words and his face fell, as if his very soul was being ripped out. He gripped the bars until his knuckles turned white, and he crumpled the note in his fist.

"Marius, I'm so sorry." Claire said, unsure if there was anything she could do to make him feel better.

He didn't answer her, he just slowly slid to the ground and put his hands on his knees and put his head in his palms.

"Would you like me to stay with you, or-"

Marius shook his head and muttered something like 'leave me alone.' Claire nodded and turned and walked away, but when she was about to turn the corner at the end of the street, she looked back one more time. Marius was still sitting by the fence, hugging his legs, his face buried in his knees, and he was shaking in inaudible sobs. He had gone from joyous and lovesick to becoming a broken man in only an hour.

Claire had just changed into her very dirty, but wonderfully dry dress when Enjolras opened the room door. He wasn't soaked by the rain like Claire was, but his hair was dripping and his clothes looked rather damp. He looked stressed and worried, though he tried to mask it as he closed the door with the heel of his boot.

"Claire," He said in such a way that made her stomach flip.

"How was the meeting?" Claire asked as she lit the candle.

The candle seemed to instantly make the room warmer, and it lit the room with a cozy golden glow.

"We're ready, now. The men know the plan. No doubt most of the men are out drinking and indulging in pleasures they believe might be their last." He said as he gazed out the window from the opposite side of the room before focusing on Claire. "You're drenched."

"I was...out." She replied.

"You're hair is really tangled, what happened?" Enjolras asked, turning and locking the door, then going to set the key on the dresser.

"Well, it's rather windy out there." Claire said. "You're hair is not much better."

Why did their conversation seem so forced and rushed? It was if they were waiting for something to happen, but neither knew exactly what.

"Here, I can fix that." Enjolras said, pulling the comb through his blonde curls. He walked over to Claire and she reached for the comb, but Enjolras shook his head.

"Turn around." He said, and Claire did, confused.

He used his right hand to gather all her hair to her back, and then he gently, starting at the bottom, began to comb it out. The gentle tugging of the comb and Enjolras's hands on her hair felt nice, and Claire closed her eyes. All too soon he stopped.

"Alright, your hair looks..." He tried to find a word to describe it.

It hung damply to her mid back, and though it was darkened by water, it still reflected the light from the candle, like dark gold flames. He could only imagine what it would look like if it was dry.

"It's no longer tangled." He finished lamely.

Claire nodded, but didn't move. Her heart was pounding rapidly and she could only hope he couldn't hear it banging against her ribcage. Without thinking, Enjolras put his hands on her shoulders and spun her slowly around to face him. He was surprised to see that her eyes were closed. She opened them slowly and looked up at him through her lashes. It dazzled him. Blue eyes met gray and they held each other's gaze for a long time.

Sense came to Claire first and she realized just how close she was to him. A mere four inches was between their faces. She took a step back and let out a long, regretful sigh.

"I- I need to go refill the pitcher," She said, walking to the bedside table and picking up the cheap, dented metal pitcher and then walking to the door.

Enjolras turned and followed her with his stunningly blue eyes.

"You need the key." he said in a husky voice that even surprised him.

He swallowed and moved to the dresser, set down the comb, and picked up the key. Claire realized that she had left her key in her rain soaked pants, which were in her drawstring bag.

"Indeed." Claire said, turning halfway around to look at him. "May I have it?"

"Why don't you come get it?" Enjolras said teasingly, holding the key towards her.

"Or you could come give it to me." Claire reasoned, turning around and shooting him a mockingly aphrodisiac look over her shoulder before facing the door.

She heard footsteps approaching her and it was all she could do to not turn around and face him. The footsteps stopped, and she could feel his rapid, warm breath on the back of her head.

"Claire," Enjolras growled, sending a shiver down her spine.

Claire turned around slowly and looked up into his eyes, expecting to see anger for some reason. He didn't look angry, however. No, he looked more...Lusty.

"May-" Claire said, her voice shaking and heart hammering. "I have the key?"

Enjolras's mouth lifted into a concupiscent smirk. He placed his left hand on the door next to the right side of Claire's head, as if keeping it shut. He used his right hand to cup the left side of Claire's face. He slowly began to lower his face to hers. His lips brushed against hers for a moment, and then settled there.

Claire let the empty metal pitcher fall to the floor with a clang. She lifted her right hand to the nape of Enjolras's neck and she placed her left hand on the right side of his face. She parted her lips slightly, and Enjolras deepened the kiss. Claire took a step back as Enjolras took a step forward, and her back pressed up against the door.

Enjolras traced Claire's bottom lip with his tongue tentatively, asking for permission. Claire granted him access and the kiss deepened further.

_"If he's never done this before, how is he so good at it?"_ She thought, but she waved that thought away.

Claire broke the kiss only because she thought she might faint from lack of air if she didn't.

"I thought your heart belonged to Patria and Patria only?" Claire said, breathing heavily.

"And who told you that?" He asked, his chest heaving.

"I had a chat with Grantaire..." Claire said, reaching up to push some of Enjolras's hair out of his eyes.

"And what else did our friendly drunk say?" Enjolras asked, moving closer to Claire so that there was only an inch of space between their two bodies.

"He said that you've no interest in lovers, and that you've condemned yourself to die without ever knowing the pleasure of a woman." Claire said, and then she remembered something he'd said earlier that day. "He said that you've no interest in conventional beauty or comfort; that you can't distract yourself with senseless things like woman."

"You had quite the talk, I must say." Enjolras said, moving his hands from the wall and her face to settle on her waist, pulling her closer to him so that the space between them was diminished.

"It's very noble of you. Very chaste. Very clean-handed and sinless." Claire said sensibly.

"Well, I'm certainly not sinless." Enjolras chuckled, rolling his eyes to the ceiling before looking back to her. "And," he leaned over to whisper into Claire's ear. "My heart doesn't only belong to Patria anymore."

Before Claire could reply, he was kissing her again. She moved her hands to his chest and fumbled with his waistcoat buttons. He let go of her waist to help with them, and once they were undone Claire pushed it down his shoulders and he shrugged it the rest of the way off, flinging it aside. Enjolras broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head, but he dropped it instantly and he pulled Claire to him again. She placed her hands on his pale, chiseled chest and moved her hands down until her thumbs her hooked in his belt.

Enjolras took a step back and kicked his boots off and unbuckled his belt. His pants were down at his ankles and he was stepping out of them before Claire could comprehend what had happened. He stepped back to her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. He looked into Claire's eyes as he slid her dress sleeves down slowly and cautiously. If she showed any sign of hesitance he would stop, but she showed no hint of nervousness and stood boldly before him as the dress slipped down her malnourished form and pooled in a puddle of fabric at her feet.

He cupped her face in his large hands and kissed her again, but softly. He backed her up until her back was against the door once more, then he slipped his hand around her left thigh and brought it up to wrap around his waist. He did the same with her right leg, supporting her with his chest and the wall. He was about to take a step back but Claire broke the kiss suddenly and looked at him with fiercely with her gray eyes.

"If you drop me, monsieur," She said threateningly. "I will not hesitate to strangle you. Think about that before you move away from this wall."

Enjolras grinned and slipped both of his arms under Claire's derriere. He felt her tense up and clutch his shoulders as he took a step away from the wall, but she relaxed once she realized his strong arms kept her upright and supported.

"God, that was nerve racking." Claire said. "I was sure I was going to fall."

"Do you honestly believe I would drop you?" Enjolras asked, looking at her skeptically and arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, I do. And you would probably drop me on purpose." Claire said. "Just to scare me."

"Oh, so, like this?" Enjolras asked, loosening his arms and letting Claire fall an inch before catching her.

Claire yelped and held on tightly to his neck, closing her eyes, but when she felt Enjolras catch her she opened her eyes and glared at him.

"You really know how to charm a woman." She said, pouting and loosening her hold on his neck...Barely.

"What can I say; I am almost as hopelessly romantic as Marius." Enjolras muttered, lowering his head and biting Claire's bottom lip softly.

Claire didn't reply, she just let him take her breath away as he carried her to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, letting Claire remain on his lap. She twisted and moved both legs to one side of him so that she could pull her undergarments off more easily. He moved his hands up her thighs and over her waist, then he slid them over the sides her ribcage and let them rest just below her chest. In one fluid movement he flipped Claire onto her back and hovered on his hands and knees above her.

_"Patria is one lucky country."_ Claire thought as her eyes roamed over Enjolras's strong chest, arms, and what she could see of his legs.

"Claire," Enjolras said, the first hint of doubt showing on his face. "Are you... Do you still want to follow through with this?"

Claire nodded, blushing, and pushed Enjolras's drawers as far down as she could without moving. Enjolras smiled, somewhat nervously, and pulled the drawers down the rest of the way and tossed them onto the floor next to the bed. He lowered his mouth to plant kisses along her jaw and down her neck before returning to devour her lips with his own.

Soon the only sounds in the room were heavy panting, the occasional moan and gasp of "oh god" and the wooden headboard of the bed thumping against the wall. Lack of experience had them both fumbling a bit but it seemed not to matter. They were in their own world, and thoughts or rebellion and barricades were miles away as they indulged in blissful sin. The panting died down after a while, and the headboard ceased its assault on the wall.

Claire was laying on her right side, wrapped in the arms of Enjolras, who was lying on his left side with his face buried in the crook of her neck. Her hands were buried in his sweaty blonde curls, and they were breathing evenly now.

"Enjolras," Claire whispered, moving her left hand to stroke his jaw, which was slightly scratchy from lack of shaving.

"Hmmm?" He hummed, kissing her collarbone before pulling his head back and meeting her gaze.

"Was that really your first time?" Claire asked, burying her head in the pillow so that Enjolras couldn't see the blood rushing to her face.

"Yes, Grantaire was telling the truth when he said I had condemned myself to die without ever having this particular experience with a woman."

"Why?" Claire asked, inquisitively.

"I just never gave it thought. I'd never met a woman who incited such desires in me. Until that first night that you slept in this bed with me, that is." Enjolras said blatantly.

"Well, now you have done something that has nothing to do with the Rebellion. You did it simply for yourself, and you can look back on this night and say 'I enjoyed that, I would do it again'!" Claire said, referring to the conversation she'd had with him the night she'd been attacked by the soldier.

Enjolras laughed softly.

"I did it for you, too. But, I didn't realize you were as inexperienced as I was. Did I hurt you?" He asked, concerned, rubbing her arm affectionately.

"It hurt for a bit," Claire replied, nuzzling her face into his warm, pale chest. "But it didn't last. I'm just a bit sore now, is all."

Enjolras hugged her even closer to him and placed his chin on top of her head.

"I'm sorry." He said, stroking her hair and breathing in her scent.

"Don't apologize." She said, her voice muffled. "I'm happy. I'm happy it was with you, and I'm happy it was tonight. We might not have had another chance..."

"Because tomorrow is the Rebellion." Enjolras stated.

"Are you afraid?" Claire squirmed until she was at eye level with Enjolras again.

"I'm not afraid for myself. I'm prepared to die. I'm worried about my men, and if the Rebellion will succeed or not. And I'm worried for you, now." Enjolras said. "I have a request to make."

Claire's stomach flipped but she nodded.

"Of course, anything." She answered.

"Tomorrow, don't go to Lamarque's funeral."

Claire sat up, stunned.

"I know it's an important event, but that is where the Rebellion will start. I can't risk you getting hurt. Please, just stay in this room until it's over, regardless of who wins. Stay here until the fighting is over." Enjolras looked so broken, and so aged in that moment the Claire was taken aback.

She had cracked Apollo's stone layer and found the real man within; the one full of doubts, worry, and concern for his friends.

"Enjolras," Claire began, looking into his pleading blue eyes. "Very well. I won't go, alright?" She lied smoothly, lying back down.

"I'm sorry. I just want to make sure you don't get hurt." Enjolras whispered, tracing the visible veins on Claire's forearm.

"How am I going to make sure you don't get hurt?" Claire asked.

Enjolras was silent, but then he spoke, thinking carefully about each word before he said it.

"I don't believe you can."

"But-"

"Claire, please. All you can do is pray."

Claire didn't answer, but she turned back towards him and closed her eyes.

"You're going to sleep?" Enjolras asked, surprised at the sudden end to their conversation.

"No, I have all day to sleep tomorrow if I'm not going to the funeral," she said, keeping her eyes closed. "But you're going to start a rebellion and make a barricade, so I closed my eyes in hopes that you would go to sleep."

"Clever." He said, closing his eyes and sighing. "I'll sleep, then."

**A/N: See, it wasn't that bad, was it? It was still fairly smut-free. So, ta-da! I first time ever writing a sex scene! I think I did okay, myself... Remember, don't let the review box starve! After this rather *ahem* fiery *cough* chapter, I'm expecting some interesting reviews. Tell me what you thought of it! And if you want more *winking while simultaneously blushing*. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Adequate amounts of love,**

**Jedss**


	9. Chapter 9

A/N so here's chapter nine! Sorry for the long wait! Hopefully chapter ten will be up soon! This is a really long chapter, so I hope you enjoy it! Follow me on tumblr! standing-in-the-clouds is my URL!

Chapter Nine

Claire was standing in the middle of the street, a rifle in her hand and blood covering her from head to foot. A dead man lay before her, but Claire paid the body no mind, because in front of her, about six yards away, she could see Enjolras fighting off three blue uniformed men. She recognized them as the three who had beaten him in the alley about a week earlier. He was outnumbered, and he was weakening. Claire lifted her rifle, aiming at one of the men. She pressed the trigger, but nothing happened. It wasn't loaded. Panicked, Claire reached into her coat pocket for another bullet, but her hand instead closed around the handle of a sharp knife. Claire ran forward, knife raised and glinting in the sun, but she tripped on a piece of clothing about her feet and went sprawling to the ground. She looked at her legs to see that she was wearing a ragged white dress, stained with blood and dirt, and it was the cause of her fall. She got to her feet quickly and looked towards Enjolras. The men had him cornered, and Claire tried to run towards him again, but it felt as if she was trying to move through a sea of molasses. She tried to yell out, to command the men to stop, but no sound would come out of her mouth. She watched as one of the men lifted his bayonet and thrust it towards Enjolras. Enjolras lifted a hand in a futile attempt to protect his chest, but the sharp bayonet pierced through his hand and sank deep into Enjolras's torso.

"Enjolras!" Claire tried to scream, but it came out in a rasp.

Another bayonet slashed into Enjolras's side, and he let out a cry of was punctured over and over mercilessly, and each time he yelled in agony.

"Enjolras! Enjolras!" Claire screamed, trying to run to him, but she felt hands on her arms, restraining her. "Enjolras! Enjolras! No!"

She thrashed against the hands holding her back, tears streaming down her face. Enjolras looked up, and his eyes met hers. He took a staggering step towards her, then another, trying to clutch his wounds, but the blood poured over his hands and seeped from his fingers. He opened his mouth to speak and blood poured out over his chin and down his front. Claire gagged, and again tried to free herself from her captor. She flung a fist out and somehow managed to connect with what seemed to be a jaw. Enjolras opened his mouth again and managed to gurgle out a few words, barely audible.

"Claire, please-" he stumbled and fell to his knees on the hard ground, swaying unsteadily. "Please, Claire-"

"Enjolras, Enjolras!" Claire sobbed. "Enjolras, I don't know what I can do! You're going to die and it's my fault!"

"Please-wake up! Claire, please! Claire!" Enjolras said again before twisting sideways violently with a sickening crack.

He fell sideways to the ground, then spasmed and turned onto his back. His eyes were glassy and teary and looked up into Claire's, but they saw nothing. Claire screamed, clawing at the person restraining her, but she stopped suddenly when she heard Enjolras's voice again.

"Claire! Stop! Claire! Jesus, Claire, wake up!"

Everything around Claire seemed to go hazy, fading in and out of blurriness. She squeezed her eyes close and rubbed them vigorously. When she opened them again she was no longer in the street, and Enjolras's body was gone. She was laying in a bed, breathing heavily and covered in a sheen of sweat. The sheets were twisted around her feet and it was incredibly dark in the room.

"Claire?"

Claire looked up and saw the face of Enjolras looming over her with concern.

"Enjolras!" Claire gasped as she sat up, new tears starting to slide down her face. "Oh my God, Enjolras, I thought you were dead!" She cried, throwing her arms around his shocked form.

"It was only a dream, Claire." Enjolras said, sitting up as well and rubbing her bare back with both of his hands. "It's okay. I'm alright. I'm not hurt."

Claire pulled away to look at him.

"You were stabbed." She whimpered. "There was so much blood, Enjolras! And I couldn't help you! Oh God, I'm so sorry! I did that to you, didn't I?" Claire sniffled, gently tracing her fingers along a red mark on the underside of Enjolras's chin.

"Yes, but it's alright. You were having a nightmare, I understand." Enjolras replied, catching her trembling hand in his own steady one. "It'll be gone by morning. You're okay, Claire. I'm alright. Just go back to sleep, alright?" Enjolras said soothingly, massaging her shoulders as she rested her head back on the pillow.

He lay back down, too, facing her. Claire was still trembling, and silent tears were still falling sideways down her face. He wiped them away with his thumb and gave her a tender kiss before pulling her close to him so that her head was pressed against his left shoulder.

"Shhh..." He repeated over and over until he felt her breath relax and even out in the telltale signs of sleep.

He kissed the top of her head before he closed his eyes as well and drifted back into sleep, cradling Claire protectively in his arms.

Claire opened her eyes groggily. It was barely light out. She turned her head to look at Enjolras. He was still sleeping. She leaned in closer to him and kissed his hairline where he had been cut. Enjolras's eyelids twitched but he didn't wake. Claire sighed and started to crawl out of the bed, but a pair of strong arms wound around her stomach and pulled her back from the edge of the mattress.

"Oh no you don't." Enjolras muttered, his voice thick with sleepiness.

"It's time to get up!" Claire said, pulling the pillow from under Enjolras's head, causing his head to fall unceremoniously onto the mattress, and smacked him across the face with it.

"No." He said defiantly, pulling the pillow from her grasp and flinging it to the foot end of the bed.

"Well, I'm getting up." She said, squirming from his embrace and scooting to edge of the mattress.

She placed her feet on the floor and stood up, stretching. God, she felt sore. She heard Enjolras sigh and sit up behind her.

"I'm so sorry for last night. With my screaming and punching and nightmare..." Claire said, looking at the floor.

"Forget about it. It wasn't your fault. I'm not going to blame you for a bad dream..." Enjolras replied, stretching in the bed and rolling over to press his face into the mattress.

"What time is the funeral?" She asked glumly, looking at the cloudy sky.

"Soon." Enjolras answered. "I should probably be getting dressed."

"Yet you're still in bed and bare as a baby." Claire mocked as she eyed his form. He was certainly bare, and his entire backside was exposed to her wandering eyes.

She blushed and swallowed and turned her eyes to scan the floor of the room, which was littered with their forgotten clothing.

"We made a bit of a mess..." She said, bending over again to pick up Enjolras's discarded waistcoat. "Are you going to wear this one today, or...?"

"No, I'll wear my red one. It seems more appropriate." He answered, finally getting out of the bed to stand by Claire.

"You seem so different now." Claire said, turning to look up at him. "Not in a bad way," she explained hurriedly when she saw Enjolras's puzzled expression. "You just seem much more... Relaxed... And... Human."

"I'm not sure I understand." Enjolras said, moving past her to pick up more of the clothing from the floor and setting the articles on the chair.

"Well, you're just so..." Claire said, struggling to find the words. "Apathetic during the day, but then you come back here and you just change. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking about this now. You need to get dressed-" Claire said, picking up her own ratty dress and pulling it on over her head, then pulling her underclothes up over her legs.

Enjolras nodded and strode to the dresser, pulling out his blood red waistcoat with it's gleaming gold buttons. He then pulled out undergarments, a gray vest, a white shirt, black pants, and a black tie. Claire watched as he pulled the white shirt over his head, then yanked his pants on. He tucked his shirt into the waistband and then put on the gray vest, buttoning it up quickly.

"Would you like to help me with my coat?" He asked, smirking. "It seems only fair since you're the one who removed it last night..."

"If that's the case, shouldn't you have helped me put on my dress?" Claire countered.

"Well, I wouldn't object if you wanted to take it off again-" He stated, and Claire rolled her eyes.

"You are a pain." Claire said, fighting back a smile and walking over to him.

She took the jacket from his hands and moved behind him.

"Hold out your arms, you pain in the arse." She said, and Enjolras stuck out one arm, then the other.

Once the waistcoat was up to his shoulders, Enjolras shrugged it the rest of the way on, but he left it unbuttoned. He tied his tie quickly, then turned around to face Claire.

"Your boots are by the chair." Claire stated, striding past him to the bedside table, where the comb was sitting.

"Claire," He said, following her and stopping a foot from her back.

"Would you help me with my hair?" Claire asked, turning and handing him the comb.

He took it and she turned around again. He gently pulled the comb through her hair, being careful and gentle when he came upon tangles.

"Claire," He said again when he'd finished and she had turned to face him.

"Here, I'll brush yours." She took the comb from his hand and stood on her tiptoes to pull the comb through his shining blonde curls. "Alright, monsieur, you look decent enough to lead a revolution, now let's get your boots on you-" She began to turn around again, but Enjolras grabbed her arm and kept her in place.

"Claire." He said sternly, causing her to look at him.

"What?" She asked, worried at the expression of vexation on his face.

"Claire, stop rushing around." He said, loosening his grip on her arm, but not letting go.

"I just don't want you to be late to the funeral, is all. The rebellion depends on you being there to encourage the people into action-"

"You know I might not come back." Enjolras said with hidden sorrow in his voice.

Claire, didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she looked down at the wooden floor. Enjolras used two fingers to lift her chin up so that she was looking at him again.

"You know that, don't you?" He asked again, softer this time.

"Yes, of course I do," Claire began. "You're going to leave this room and fight at a barricade that you have already condemned yourself to die at. How could I forget?" Claire asked, almost resentfully.

"So stop rushing!" Enjolras said, lifting his hands to her shoulders and shaking her slightly. "I don't want to get out of that door as quickly as I can! I want to stay here, with you, as long as possible."

"I want you to stay, too." Claire whispered, barely audible.

"Alright then." Enjolras said. "Then sit in that chair and don't rush anymore." He directed Claire to the chair, and then bent down to retrieve his black, shiny boots.

He sat on the edge of the bed, across from Claire, and leisurely pulled one boot on, then the other. When he finished, he looked at Claire as he almost lazily buttoned his waistcoat. He stood to pick up a red sash and tied it around his waist, then he sat back looked at each other in silence for what seemed like a long time both lost in thought, and they both jumped when there was a pounding on the door.

"Enjolras? Enjolras!" It was Marius's voice. "Enjolras, the funeral parade is moments away from starting!"

Enjolras jumped up and held his hands out to Claire to help her up.

"I guess I can't stall any longer." He said as the walked towards the door.

"Promise me you'll try not to die." Claire said.

"I promise I won't try to die." He said, and pulled her into a hug so fierce it knocked the breath out of her.

He held her until there was more pounding on the door.

"Enjolras if you don't come out of that room right now I will break it down!" Courfeyrac's voice.

Enjolras released her and brushed his lips against hers.

"Promise me you won't leave this room!" He said, hand on the doorknob.

Claire nodded.

"Don't open this door to anyone unless it's me or someone you know!" He said as he pulled the door open and stepped out.

Claire could see Marius, Gavroche, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre from where she stood. She looked back into Enjolras's eyes and they didn't look away until Gavroche reached out and slammed the door shut.

Immediately after the door slammed shut, Claire was tearing off her dress and struggling into her pants and shirt, which were still slightly damp from last nights rain. She pulled on the shoes and jacket and twisted her hair into a tight plait. She couldn't risk having her hair falling into her eyes when she was holding a gun. She folded the braid on top of her head and pulled the hat on as she opened the door and raced after the group of men that had just left.

She saw them jogging along the cobbled street, and she lowered her voice and called after them.

"Marius! Courfeyrac! Combeferre!"

They turned to see her racing towards them. She slowed down as she reached them.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I-" She said, looking pointedly away from Enjolras so that he wouldn't recognize her.

Not that he minded. Claire noticed that as she matched pace with them, he discretely moved to the other side of the group of men to be as far from her as possible. Courfeyrac handed her a small hand pistol and she stuck it inside her coat pocket.

"No need for apologies, let's just hurry." Marius said in a cold, stern voice that Claire had never heard from him before.

They jogged the rest of the way in silence, and when they reached the main street, they were engulfed by a swarm of people all standing along the sidewalk. Many of them looked glum and upset, and some of the older women were crying. Gavroche left the group then, to take his place at a higher window to raise the flag for the signal. It was eerily silent as the group made it's way along. Claire saw Feuilly, Jean Prouvaire, Joly, and Lesgle, and she nudged Marius, who was leading, and pointed in their direction. He nodded grimly and they moved to stand by the others.

They stood in silence for about ten minutes, and then the first of the soldiers on horseback came around the corner. They thundered by, trotting and their hooves flung clumps of dirt and mud into the faces of those standing too close. The black hearse came into sight, and as it drew nearer, the red flag, the signal flag, was thrust out of a window above the crowd and began fluttering in the wind.

"Now!" Came Enjolras's voice from somewhere to Claire's right. The crowd, led by Enjolras and the others, surged forward and overflowed the street. Enjolras jumped onto the hearse and helped Marius up, so that they stood side by side. The crowd moved forward, screaming and yelling things such as "Vivé La France" and "Vivé La Revolution," and some yelling obscenities that didn't make sense to Claire. She stood along side the hearse, walking with the tide of the crowd, which had produced giant flags of red, and many where tricolored red, white, and blue.

Claire glanced up at Enjolras and Marius. Enjolras was swinging a giant red flag back and forth; someone must have handed it up to him, and he was shouting, but Claire couldn't make out what he was saying over the noise.

The soldiers who had been marching before were now scattered, but when the surge of French citizens turned a corner, a hush fell over the crowd. They were facing about sixty soldiers, all on horseback, and all holding rifles with gleaming bayonets attacked to the end. Their faces were grim, and they looked positively deadly.

She looked up at Enjolras, and he met her eyes for the briefest of seconds before he lowered the red flag down to her in order to free his hands. The flag was heavy, but not too heavy that Claire couldn't hold it. She looked back up to see that both Marius and Enjolras had pistols cocked and aimed at the soldiers. There was silence while both sides sized each other up, but then a shot rang out in the crisp morning air. Then there was chaos and mayhem. There was screaming and running and the sound of guns and swords clanging. Claire barely made out Enjolras's voice above the crowd.

"To the Barricades!" He was shouting as he jumped from the hearse and pointed in the direction of the Café Musain.

Claire was about to turn in the direction of the Café Musain when someone grabbed her arm. She turned to see a furious soldier. Claire yelled loudly and yanked her arm away, trying to run, but people pressed against her on all sides. The soldier lowered his rifle and was taking aim when Claire brought one end of the flagpole down on his head. He grabbed his head in pain, but rushed Claire with his bayonet all the same. She dropped the flag and tried to turn aside to avoid the deadly blade. Luckily his aim was off, whether it was due to the blow he'd just received or because he didn't have very good aim to begin with, Claire couldn't tell, but all the same, he missed her by a fraction of an inch. Instead of piercing her skin, the bayonet snagged in her coat, causing the man to loose balance and pitch forward.

Claire used this to her advantage and pushed the barrel of the rifle down with her left hand, leaving the man's stomach exposed. She reached into her coat jacket quickly with her right hand and brought out the pistol. She cocked it fluidly and pressed the barrel of the gun against the man's chest and pulled the trigger. Because of the close range, his hot blood splattered up Claire's arm and sprayed her face. The man looked shocked for a moment, then terrified as he realized his last seconds on Earth would be spent looking up at his killer. Claire watched the life drain from his face and she stepped back, breathing heavily. She pulled the bayonet out of her jacket, but it left a large, ragged hole.

Claire looked down at the dead soldier and saluted him before returning the pistol to her jacket pocket and turning around again, making her way through the crowd towards the Café Musain. By the time she reached the dead end street, people were already throwing every bit of furniture out of their windows. Claire dodged the falling objects, narrowly avoiding getting struck down by a falling table. She reached the Café and swung the door open. There were men and woman everywhere, making bullets, sewing flags, cleaning rifles, and loading pistols. She grabbed another pistol from a table and stuffed it in her belt, then she went back outside to see if she could help with the construction of the Barricade. She saw Combeferre struggling with the broken table that had nearly hit Claire earlier, and she rushed to help. Things were still falling, though not as much. The Barricade was already incredibly tall and wide, and Claire was astounded at what could be made in just a few minutes.

"Thank you," Combeferre said through grunts as they pushed the table up against the other broken furniture.

"My pleasure," Claire said when the table was in place. "Keep the faith."

She turned to see Grantaire opening the door to the wine shop.

"Grantaire!" She called, striding to him.

He turned, and when he spied her, he stopped Claire reached him but recoiled at the smell of wine and something else... Absinthe, maybe?

"You've been drinking already?" Claire asked, aghast. "On a day like this?!"

"Claire you should not be here." He said grumpily, his eyes flitting around until they settled, unfocused, on her face. "My God, what happened to your face? Your arm!? Have you hurt yourself already? I told you not to come! You're already crippled and useless!"

"It's not my blood." Claire growled. "It's a soldier's. He's dead now." She glared up at him, and took a step towards him menacingly. "And don't you DARE criticize me, Grantaire, because the only useless one here is you! What do you think you'll be able to do if you're drunk, hmm? I've already shot a man down! All you've downed is a bottle of wine and Absinthe!" She yelled.

She slapped him across the face and he looked startled, then shamefaced.

"Splash your face with water and do what you have to do, but no more wine!" She said angrily, spinning around and storming back to where the barricade was almost finished.

People were still running around, and she heard Enjolras's voice over the crowd. He was standing at the very top of the barricade next to a large red flag that was fluttering in the wind.

"We need a volunteer!" He yelled, and several people turned to look at him. "We need someone who can find out their plans and when they will attack!"

An older man in a gray jacket stepped forward with his arm raised.

"I can! I know what they are like! I've fought their wars and done my time."

Claire studied the man. He had a circular, tricolored patch that was identical to everyone else's, and a gray cap that was pulled low over his face, just as Claire's was. He looked somewhat familiar, but she couldn't place where she had seen him before, but she had an uneasy feeling about him.

Enjolras's nodded and a pistol was thrust into the man's hand by Combeferre. He disappeared around a corner just as Joly spied Claire from across the street. He made his way over to her and grabbed her bloodied arm.

"Clark, your arm, is it injured?" He asked loudly, and Enjolras glanced down at the pair from on top of the barricade.

"No, my arm is fine, Joly, thank you." Claire said, feeling Enjolras's gaze on her. She readjusted her cap self consciously. "It's not my blood, actually. A soldier attacked me and I had to shoot him."

Joly nodded gravely and released her, but Enjolras jumped down and stood by him.

"You've already shot one?" He asked, and Claire nodded, pulling her hat even lower on her head and avoiding his gaze.

"I had too. I was practically cornered."

Enjolras's eyes hardened in determination and he nodded stiffly before returning to the top of the barricade.

- Claire wandered aimlessly behind the barricade with Gavroche for several hours in silence, scanning for any bit of spare furniture that could be used to strengthen the barricade. She avoided Enjolras's gaze, but checked on him occasionally. She saw Marius off in a corner, reading and rereading the now very worn note that Cosette had left for him. Many of the men were placed along the wall with there guns propped up next to them, and they were chatting quietly. When it had grown very dark, and the only light came from small fires and torches, Claire heard a loud yell from Courfeyrac.

"He's back!"

Claire and Gavroche ran back to the Barricade just in time to see Enjolras, poised and ready, point with his thumb to where the secret entrance was. The man that had gone to spy appeared near Claire's left, and she studied him again, trying to place where she had seen him before.

"Listen my friends! I will tell what I can!" The man said, and his gruff voice stirred something in Claire. "They have armies to spare, their danger is very real, it will take much cunning to bring them down."

"Have faith," Enjolras said to the gathered men. "If we know what their movements are we'll spoil their game. There are many ways that the people can fight! We will overcome their power!"

"From what I heard, there will be no attack tonight." The man said slowly, and it seemed to Claire as if he was trying to sound convincing. "They intent to starve us out before they attack. They want to hit us when it's light." The man reached up as if to pull on a shirt collar, but he didn't have one.

His eyes caught Claire's for a moment before flicking away. They were dull blue.

"He's lying." Claire said quietly, though it was loud enough for the few men around her to hear, and they turned to her curiously.

"What did you say?" Enjolras asked from atop the barricade.

"You're lying!" Claire said louder, addressing the man. "I know this man, that is Inspector Javert!" She said to the crowd. "Don't believe anything he says! None of it's true!"

Javert, his cover blown, tried to turn and run, but he was surrounded and his arms were behind his back and he had multiple pistols to his head before he could even turn around.

"Good one, Clark!" One of the men yelled, probably Joly.

"What are we going to do with him?!" Another one yelled, and everyone looked at Enjolras, who was fuming.

"Take this man and throw him in the tavern!" He said angrily, but before the men could drag him away, he put his face close to Javert's and growled. "The people will decide your fate, Inspector Javert."

"Shoot me now or shoot me later! Do as you please!" He said, spitting at Enjolras, but it missed and landed by his feet. "Death to each and every traitor! I renounce your PEOPLES court!

Javert was pulled away from Enjolras by several strong men, with Claire holding a gun to his head, and they got halfway to the tavern near the wine shop before Javert swung around quickly, throwing punches and hitting Claire on the side of the head with his fist. She shouted in pain and more men came, Enjolras caught hold or Javert's jacket, and Javert punched him in the jaw, causing him to loose his grip. Claire tackled him at knee level and they both fell to the ground. More men held his struggling form down and Claire was helped to her feet just in time to see Enjolras raise a metal bar or Javert's head and swing it down with a sickening crack.

The men were silent for a few moments, breathing heavily, staring at Javert's still form, but the sound of many marching boots beyond the barricade brought them to their senses.

"Tie him up!" Enjolras yelled to the men. "We have work to do!"

Javert was hauled to his feet and dragged to the tavern. Claire watched the men tie his wrists together and yank them above his head, then a noose was formed and put around his head. Claire heard the men at the barricade yelling and she ran out of the tavern. Someone handed her a rifle and she thanked whoever it was as she ran past. She spied Enjolras at the top of the barricade, laying low and pointing his gun at where a large number of men in blue uniforms were standing. It looked like a flood, except for that the water had many faces and guns just as deadly as the one Claire held in her hands. She climbed up near him and laid down as well, peeking up over the top of the barricade at the sea of men.

A man with a brown mustache and unforgiving features stepped forward.

"Who's there?" He yelled loudly at the barricade.

Everyone behind the barricade looked up at Enjolras.

"French Revolution!" He yelled back.

"Fire!" The soldier yelled.

The ocean of men fired and Claire could hear bullets whizz by above her head. There was much yelling and screaming and the smell of gunpowder, and Claire pointed her gun and aimed at one man and pulled her trigger. He dropped. One. She reloaded and aimed at another and pulled. Two. She systematically reloaded, aimed and fired, until she was out of bullets and powder. But the soldiers began to advance on the barricade and climb up the other side. She looked to her left quickly to see Enjolras shooting rapidly. He hit every man he aimed at, but there were too many.

Claire pulled out both of her pistols and crawled along the barricade to come to his aid. Enjolras was shooting at the soldiers in front of him, but he hadn't noticed one of them on his left side. Claire fired at him, hitting him in the shoulder. He cried out and another bullet to his head ended his agony.

She was about to take aim at another when a large body fell against her. She lost her precarious footing on the loose wood of the barricade and fell backwards, dropping both pistols. She landed on the cobblestones of the street below and the heavy corpse landed on top, knocking the breath out of her and causing her head to thud against the stone. He must have been at least two hundred and fifty pounds, and he oozed blood all over her. She gasped and wheezed, trying to push the dead weight off of her and trying to see around it, but her vision had gone slightly hazy. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. Things looked slightly clearer now.

Just as she had twisted enough to see through a gap between the cadaver's bloody arm and torso, a hush fell over the barricade. Claire struggled and strained painfully to see the top of the barricade. What she saw made her blood run cold. Marius was standing with a torch pointed to a small barrel of what Claire could only assume was gun powder.

"Fall back!" He yelled, beating a soldier down as he tried to overtake him. "Fall back or I blow the barricade!"

"Blow it up and take yourself with it!" The soldier that had spoken before yelled in response, but he didn't move from where he stood.

"Oh, Christ!" Claire gasped, struggling even harder against the corpse pinning her to the ground.

She saw Marius nod in a terrifyingly calm way.

"and myself with it." He yelled, lowering the flame to the edge of the barrel.

The head soldier, the one with the mustache, hesitated, but he clearly had common sense.

"Back! Back!" He yelled at his men, and the ones still living hastily retreated around the far corner of the street.

When the last soldier had disappeared, Enjolras slowly reached up and took the torch from Marius's trembling hand. Marius dropped the barrel and climbed down the barricade, where he was bombarded with remarks from the men.

"What the hell were you thinking-"

"You saved us all-"

"-could've gotten us all killed!"

"Christ, Marius!"

"-saved us from-"

He ignored them all and walked away to sit in his corner and read his note from Cosette. Claire spied Feuilly and called out to him.

"Feuilly! I need your help-"

He glanced around until he saw the slightly moving body. He came to her quickly and with trouble he rolled the bloody corpse off if Claire's gasping form which lay in a puddle of blood.

"How did that happen?" He asked as he grasped Claire's gory, outstretched arm and pulled her into a standing position.

"I was on the barricade when it-he-fell on me." She answered, looking down at the dead man and shivering, then picking up one of the guns that had fallen from her hands and putting it in her belt; the other one had disappeared. "He was too heavy to get off."

Feuilly nodded and turned away. Claire looked down at herself. All down her front was dripping with blood, and her hands were bright red from when she'd attempted to push the bloody man off. She walked slowly towards the tavern where she thought some of the men had tossed their coats. As she entered, she noticed that the spy Javert was awake. He looked groggy, but he saw her and his face hardened. She ignored him and pulled off her bloody jacket. She wiped her bloodied hands on the inside of it, and after seeing no furniture to throw it on, she instead flung it onto the floor. She looked around but saw no other coats. She hissed in frustration. A low, guttural chuckle came from behind her. She turned to see Javert's eyes following her.

"What do you find so amusing, INSPECTOR?" She asked, moving to the door.

"You stand no chance against the French army." He said, as if the thought of Claire being killed was a pleasant one.

"I would advise you to stop talking if you are at all fond of having a tongue." Claire threatened. "But if you would like to loose your tongue, by all means, talk away."

"I can hardly wait to see the blood of you and all your friends flood these streets." He said, smirking up at her.

He was groggy, and there was dried blood under his nose and from the side of his head.

"Unfortunately, MONSIEUR, you won't be there to see it." She pulled out her pistol and walked forward to press it against his head between his eyes.

"Are you going to shoot me, boy?" Javert asked, trying to look into Claire's eyes. "You don't have the guts to kill a man who cannot defend himself."

"You're right." Claire said, moving the gun to the right side of his head. "But if I were to pull the trigger now, it wouldn't kill you. It would paralyze you, keeping you from walking, talking, or moving. It wouldn't, however, keep you from feeling pain. I could start with your fingers. I could cut them off, knuckle by knuckle, then your toes. I could gouge out your eyes, next. And you would sit there with your mouth open in a silent scream that no one could hear-" Claire could see Javert's eyes widen in what she took to be fear, but he masked it quickly.

Claire supposed she was capable of being terrible, just like Grantaire said Enjolras was. She lowered the gun and looked into his eyes.

"So," She said grimly. "Since that sounds quite fun, keep talking."

Javert was silent, but the way he was studying her face made her uncomfortable.

"I know you." He said, and Claire froze. "I know your face."

"Yes, you probably do. You wrongly accused me of robbery a few weeks ago-"

"No." Javert said, smirking. "I've seen your face. I've carried your face and I've had my men nail your face to many walls all over France. I know you."

Claire knew he was talking about the missing posters. She remembered the one she'd seen on the day she'd run away, nailed to the wall of a building in the most public place in town. How he recognized her through the layer of blood on her face, Claire didn't know.

"If you say anything to anyone I'll send a bullet through your brain." She hissed.

He stopped studying her and looked over her shoulder at something in the doorway. Claire turned to see Enjolras's stony face.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked, ignoring Javert.

"I came in to find a new jacket. Mine was covered in blood. Then I decided to have a nice chat with the spy."

"I know where you can find a jacket." Enjolras said, holding the door open for Claire and letting it slam shut behind them.

The walked in silence as Enjolras lead her to the Café Musain, but finally he spoke.

"How did you know that spot would paralyze him?" He asked, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"You were listening that long?" Claire asked, worried.

Enjolras gave a sharp nod.

"Well, I told you I was at war against the French when I was twelve. Our camp was invaded and I was the only one who spoke French, so they slaughtered everyone else and kidnapped me and one other man, Lieutenant Bailey. They used that threat against me-they wanted to know where the rest of the camps were, you see- and when I didn't believe them, they shot Bailey there and tortured him in front of me, in the same way that I threatened Javert." Claire had stopped walking, and Enjolras had, too. "I couldn't tell them anything. I had to sit there, watching him try to scream as they cut him to pieces and I couldn't tell them anything! But he was as good as gone, wasn't he? There was no point trying to save him after he was a bloody stump-" She stammered, trying to find an excuse for letting poor Lieutenant Bailey be chopped to bits.

Claire closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. Why did she say that to Javert? She would never condemn someone to that gruesome fate. Killing them was better than that. She had been feeling angry and sadistic, and she was covered in blood and tired, just as she was that day when they kidnapped her and Bailey. She didn't even know how she escaped. One day she had been sitting on the dirty ground with a gun to her head, and the next day she was crawling through the tall grass and scaling the castle wall four hundred miles away. A hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present.

"Clark." Enjolras said calmly.

Claire looked up at him. There was no emotion on his face, as if he were wearing a mask.

"Wipe your face." He ordered, and Claire reached up to find that her face was wet with tears.

Claire grimaced at this pathetic sign of weakness. She wiped her eyes angrily and straightened her back.

"Are you going to be alright?" He asked with the smallest amount of concern in his voice.

"Yes, of course." Claire said, striding towards the Café.

Enjolras quickened his pace to catch up to her, then he slowed down to match her steps.

"Why did Inspector Javert say that he knew you? What did he mean when he said his men had nailed your face up all over France?"

"Well..." Claire said, trying to think of a suitable lie. "I was a wanted person, once. I stole something of great value and destroyed it."

Enjolras nodded, and Claire could tell that a petty thing such as theft was not a matter of concern for Enjolras. He opened the door to the Café Musain and they both slipped inside. They struggled through a crowd of men cleaning and reloading their pistols and guns and climbed the stairs.

"Here." He said, and he tossed Claire a gray jacket similar to her ripped and bloody brown one. "It's Bahorel's. He won't be needing it anymore."

Claire saw Enjolras's face fall for a moment, but he composed himself instantaneously.

"What do you mean?" Claire asked cautiously, pulling on the jacket and buttoning it up.

It was a bit large, and she had to roll up the sleeves so that she could use her hands easier.

"He's been shot. Joly's set up an infirmary of sorts on the first floor of the wine shop." Enjolras answered, and his face was unreadable, but his voice seemed slightly feeble.

"Is he dead?" Claire asked, shocked.

"Not yet. He's close, though. I went to see if I could help in any way, but he's beyond help at this point." His face had gone stony, and he clenched his jaw and his eyes went icy.

Enjolras turned and focused his attention to several of the men loading their rifles.

"I'll go see if there's anything I can do..." Claire mumbled as she stumbled back towards the door.

On her way out of the Café, she lifted another pistol from the corner of a table to replace her missing one. She opened the door and stepped out into the dark, chilly street. She pulled Bahorel's jacket tighter around herself and jogged to the wine shop next to the Café. As Claire opened the door, Joly looked up at her. He had been leaning over a man's leg. There was a puncture wound from what looked like a bayonet, but as Claire approached, the man was able to stand and hobble out of the shop.

"Joly," Claire said in a hushed tone, looking around.

There weren't very many men in the shop, and none of them looked fatally wounded, just scratched up.

"I came to see Bahorel. Is he-am I too late?" She whispered.

"No, but he's very near. All I can do is keep him as drunk as possible, but he's in a lot of pain." Joly answered, leading her towards a table at the back of the shop.

There was a body laying on it, and his face was lit dimly by a nearby candle. Bahorel was breathing shallowly, and he was stripped to his undergarments. Strips of cloth were wrapped around his torso and abdomen, but they were almost completely soaked through with blood. He seemed to be sleeping, and his fingers were wrapped loosely around the neck of an almost empty bottle of wine.

"What happened?" Claire asked, taking in Bahorel's limp form.

"Two bullets to the chest and a bayonet to his gut. I'm amazed he's lived this long. He's got the stamina of an ox." Joly said.

"And, there's absolutely nothing that can be done? The bullets can't be removed? He can't be stitched up?" Claire almost begged, pulling up a chair next to Bahorel's still form and sitting heavily in it.

"Nothing. The bullets exploded on impact. They're fragmented inside his body. The bayonet did more then cut his skin; his lower intestines are cut up as well." Joly said, shaking his head sadly.

The door opened again, and they both turned to see a man stumble in, bleeding from his head.

"I need to take care of the others. If you would stay here for a while, just until... I feel like he'd want someone to be with him when... When it happens. He was never one to be by himself... He always enjoyed the company of his friends, you know." Joly whispered, taking one last look of his close friend laying on the table.

"Of course I will." Claire said as Joly walked towards the door.

She reached out and pushed the hair off of Bahorel's forehead.

"Oh Bahorel..." She mumbled, taking the wine from his hand and setting it on the floor by her feet. "Oh Bahorel, I'm so sorry this happened to you..."

He stirred and opened his eyes slowly. He turned his head and cringed in pain. Claire lifted the bottle quickly and poured some of the red liquid into his mouth, wishing she had some of Grantaire's opium with her. He swallowed, but some of the wine spilled out of his mouth and onto his chin, dripping down to land in splatters on the floor.

"Clark." He said, smiling drunkenly.

"Hello, Bahorel." Claire said, squeezing his hand. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Iz okey." He slurred. "I would've woken up anyway. I'm in a bit o' pain."

"Yes, I know." Claire said, nodding. "But it's okay, now. Just go back to sleep, now, okay? And when you next wake up you'll feel much better."

"I don't think I could go back to sleep even if I wanted to." He muttered, grimacing.

"Well, maybe if you just closed your eyes-" Claire started.

"Remember when we drank so much we couldn't stand?" Bahorel reminisced. "And Enjolras got so mad he kicked us out until we sobered up?"

"Yes, I remember. How could I forget? That was fun, wasn't it?" Claire said, laughing.

It had been only a couple days ago. Claire had stupidly accepted to be part of a drinking game between Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and Bahorel. They drank every time Enjolras had given them a disapproving look. Needless to say, they ended up emptying three and a half bottles of wine before Enjolras had finally forced them to leave.

Bahorel nodded, grinning again. There was blood in his mouth.

"That was a good time." He said.

He laughed but then clutched at his stomach, where even more blood soaked into the cloth. When his hand came away, his palm was wet with it.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" He asked, his voice lowering.

"No, no!" Claire said reassuringly. "Joly will make sure you're alright."

"Don't worry." Bahorel said, patting her knee, leaving a red stain. "I know I'm past saving."

"Bahorel, I'll make sure you're okay." Claire said, her eyes stinging.

"I'm ready, Clark." Bahorel said in a submissive voice. "I know. I'll be okay. Will you stay by me?"

"Yes, of course," Claire squeaked through the lump in her throat as she grabbed his bloody hand. "Of course I'll stay here with you."

"Good." Bahorel whispered, rolling his head to the ceiling and closing his eyes. "I'm not scared."

"I know, Bahorel. You're much braver than I. Braver than anyone I know! just go to sleep, and you'll be in a better place before you know it, you brave, brave man..."

Bahorel nodded, but he opened his eyes as his body convulsed once, twice, on the table. He gurgled and blood seeped from the corners of his mouth. His hand tightened around hers in a final squeeze before going limp. He went still and his eyes glazed over. His head lolled to the side as if to stare at Claire, but they were empty and Claire knew they were staring at nothing.

Claire let out a silent sob as she reached forward to close Bahorel's eyes. She placed both of his hands on his bloody stomach and stood up. She stumbled away from Bahorel's corpse and nodded at Joly as she swung the door open and once again stepped into the street. She squeezed her eyes shut and took one deep breath, then another. She wiped at her eyes and took a moment to recuperate before she stood up straight and stalked towards the barricade. She saw the Enjolras, Marius, and several others were already there.

She was about halfway there when there was a commotion. There was yelling and a struggle. She ran forward to see a man in a blue uniform struggling against the restraints of several Friends of the ABC.

"Do you see that man over there?" Enjolras was yelling as he pointed towards the tavern where Javert was barely visible through the window. "A spy, just like you! He's awaiting his trial!"

A gun was put to the man's head as Claire shoved her way through the group of men. She caught a glimpse of his face and recognition struck her.

"Don't shoot!" She yelled, her voice still hoarse, as she jumped up on her toes to get Enjolras's attention. "Don't shoot him! I've met him!"

The man who Claire knew to be Cosette's father, Monsieur Madeleine, sighed gratefully and rolled his eyes to the sky as if in thanks. He tensed and pulled a pistol from his belt.

"Enemy sharpshooter!" He yelled, pointing to the rooftops.

Claire turned quickly to see a soldier on the roof of one of the buildings. He was lowering his rifle and taking aim. Monsieur Madeleine aimed as well and shot. Claire was amazed when the bullet struck the soldier and he fell out of view.

There was another shout and Claire watched as Enjolras grabbed his rifle and, almost gracefully, pulled it in front of him, aimed, and pulled the trigger. He really was an excellent marksman.

"Thank you, monsieur." Enjolras said. "If there's anything we can do to thank you..."

"There is, in fact." Monsieur Madeleine said, making his way towards the tavern. "Give me the spy, Javert. Let me deal with him."

Enjolras nodded grimly and turned to Claire.

"Bring him the spy." He said, and Claire turned quickly.

She raced into the tavern and pulled Javert to his feet. She dragged him out into the street and headed to where Monsieur Madeleine stood. The group of men had dispersed, and only Enjolras remained. She hauled Javert towards them and shoved him towards Monsieur Madeleine.

"Sir," She said, dipping her hat towards him before taking a step back.

"Do what you must." Enjolras said, handing Monsieur Madeleine a switch knife and nodding once before returning to the top of the Barricade to keep watch.

Claire watched as Monsieur Madeleine began to roughly pull Javert down an alleyway.

"Monsieur," She called, and both Javert and Monsieur Madeleine turned slightly to look at her. "If you'll forgive me asking, why are you eager to dispatch of the spy, Javert?"

"Personal reasons. Unfinished business, as you would have it." He answered vaguely, turning and shoving Javert forward.

Claire stood for a moment, fighting herself internally. Javert knew that she was Princess Clairette, and he couldn't have the chance to escape. However, Monsieur Madeleine seemed pretty adamant, surely he would dispose of him, wouldn't he? She shook her head and stood up straighter. She had to be positive.

She followed Monsieur Madeleine silently, hiding in the shadows as they twisted further and further away from the barricade, and from any prying eyes. Monsieur Madeleine stopped and turned Javert around harshly. Claire could see the glint of the silver knife blade as he held it out before him.

"You've been waiting for this moment your whole life." Javert said, his eyes gleaming maliciously. "How right you should kill with a knife."

There was definitely something going on here that Claire didn't understand. Monsieur Madeleine lowered the knife quickly and with one swift motion the ropes binding Javert's wrists fell to the ground.

"Clear out of here!" Monsieur Madeleine hissed, taking a step back.

"I don't understand..." Javert muttered, rubbing his wrists and looking puzzled.

"Clear out of here!" Monsieur Madeleine said louder.

"Ah," Javert whispered, nodding. "You've made it clear. Yes, Val Jean, you want a deal."

"You're wrong, and you have always been wrong. I'm just a man, no worse than any man." Monsieur Madeleine said.

"If you free me, I will not give up. I will not do the same for you, beware." Javert said, taking a step back. "I won't give in."

"If I get out of this alive you will find me in Paris. I do not doubt our paths will cross again."

Claire was dumbstruck. He was letting the spy GO!? He couldn't! He wouldn't! He was clearly a wanted man as well, why would he willingly release Javert?

Javert turned and began to jog away when Claire saw Monsieur Madeleine raise the pistol and aim it at Javert's back. Good, he was going to kill him! Monsieur Madeleine pulled the trigger and the wall near Javert's head exploded in a shower of dust and rubble. Javert turned around quickly, then dashed away as fast as he could. Claire was furious.

"Monsieur!" She yelled angrily, stepping out of the shadows and revealing her presence. "Have you any idea what you've just done?!" She yelled, running forward and giving him a well placed blow to the stomach before he grabbed her wrists and held her at arms length away.

"I've released a man who was only doing his job as an officer." He replied calmly, keeping a steady hold on Claire's struggling form.

"You've ruined us! The barricades will fall because of you! You haven't a clue, have you?! You are the cause of our undoing! You-you-" Claire struggled for words.

She knew Javert would go and tell everyone the news. He would tell the army that Claire was there, and they would advance and kill everyone to get to her. Claire stopped struggling and Monsieur Madeleine dropped her wrists.

"Monsieur, why are you even here? Why have you come? You are supposed to be in Paris with Cosette." Claire said, ignoring his expression of shock.

"How do you know of that?" He asked.

"I found a letter Cosette left for Marius. They are in love, Monsieur, and now they are heartbroken." Claire said, refusing to say any more than that.

"I am here to keep Marius safe. The young boy, Gavroche, you call him, gave me a letter earlier tonight that was addressed to my daughter. He's the world to my child, I cannot let him die."

Monsieur Madeleine turned and stalked away, headed back to the barricade, and Claire followed suite. As she approached, Grantaire caught sight of her and pulled her aside.

"Courfeyrac, you take the watch," Claire heard Enjolras say over the dull chatter of the men as Grantaire led her to the base of the barricade. "They may attack again before it's light. Everybody, keep the faith!"

Claire sat down on the cold cobblestone next to Grantaire and he pulled out a bottle of wine. She glanced at him disapprovingly but he ignored her look and pulled out the cork expertly.

"Drink with me." He ordered, handing her the bottle.

Claire rolled her eyes and took a small sip, just enough to warm her insides but no more.

"To life!" He said, holding the bottle up and then taking a large swig.

He handed it back to Claire and she held it up as well.

"To friendship!"

Grantaire took it from her again and raised it once more.

"Here's to the pretty girls that went to our heads!" He said loudly, and several of the men turned to look at him.

"Ay," one of them said. "Here's to the witty girls that came to our beds, eh?"

Claire blushed into the darkness. She took the wine bottle from Grantaire and thrust it in the air again.

"To Bahorel." She said quietly, and Grantaire nodded.

"To Bahorel." He repeated.

"To Bahorel." A voice to Claire's left said and she felt someone sit down on by her side.

"Ello, Gavroche. Had a busy night, yeah?" She asked as Gavroche rested his head on her shoulder.

He nodded and closed his eyes. Before long, she could hear him breathing evenly in and out in the telltale sign of slumber. To her right Grantaire had downed the rest of the wine and was snoring slightly as well. Claire pulled her hat down lower on her head, wrapped her jacket tighter around herself, and rested her head on Grantaire's shoulder. She didn't think she would be able to sleep, but she eventually succumbed to the darkness.

A/N okay, so I hope you enjoyed that... I have to admit, during Bahorel's death scene I cried. It didn't help that I was listening to Empty Chairs at Empty Tables on repeat, but, oh well. REMEBER! DON'T LET THE REVIEW BOX STARVE! IT'S BEEN A WEEK AND I'M SURE IT'S CLOSE TO DEATH! Really, though, I love reviews, they keep me going, so I would really appreciate it if you just took two seconds to review my story. thanks!

Enough love to fill an olympic sized pool,

~Jedss


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N So yes, I know it's been a while, and I know that I told several of you on tumblr that I'd have this uploaded by Sunday and I'm a big fat liar I know but it's Monday night here in Alaska so yeah. This is a pretty short chapter because I ended up cutting the original chapter 10 in fourths so that I could upload the finished three fourths individually while still working on the remaining fourth… Did that make sense? I've always been crappy at math… Anyway, enjoy this chapter; the other fourths will be up soon…Probably…**

**Chapter 10**

Claire woke to the sound of people talking. Her whole body ached from sleeping against hard wood and in a sitting position. Everything around her was damp, her clothes weren't soaked through, but everything was covered in a thin mist. It must have rained during the night. She opened her eyes groggily and looked about. Enjolras was pacing back and forth. His red waistcoat and gray vest had been unbuttoned, and his tie had been loosed so that it hung limply against his chest. He seemed angry and worried. When enough of the men had woken to give him a decent sized audience, he addressed them.  
"We're the only ones left." He said, looking up at the gray sky, fuming. "We have been abandoned by those who still live in fear of the king." He looked about at the faces of his friends. "Let's not waste lives. If you wish to go, leave now."  
The rest of the men glanced at each other awkwardly. Nobody moved. Claire closed her eyes and leaned her head back against a slab of wood.  
"The gunpowder's wet through." She heard Marius say. "And we're low on ammunition."  
Claire rolled her head to her left shoulder and froze. Hadn't Gavroche been sleeping against that shoulder last night? She opened her eyes again and looked about.

"Gavroche?" She rasped he'd moved to get out of the rain?

Why was she so worried? He knew how to handle himself. But Claire still felt uneasy. She rubbed her eyes and glanced around, trying to catch a glimpse of his dirty hair or blue jacket.

"Gavroche?" She said, louder now. "Gavroche, where did you go?

There was the sound of a gunshot. Claire was instantly on her feet, wide awake now. The other men were looking around, stunned. She scurried as fast as her legs and arms would carry her to the top of the barricade. She crouched down and peeked over the top. Claire suddenly caught sight of someone at the base of the barricade, outside in the street.

"Gavroche!" Claire yelled, causing some of the men to look up at her in alarm. "Gavroche, come back!"

Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Combeferre appeared at her side. They looked down to where Gavroche stood, facing the soldiers.

"We won't give up!" He was saying as he stooped down to pick up another pouch.

"Gavroche! Gavroche, what're yeh doing!?" Combeferre yelled.

"Gavroche, Gavroche, no!" Courfeyrac screamed, trying to climb over the top of the barricade.

Claire and Enjolras held him back. Another shot rang out and the bullet struck the will-o'-the-wisp of a child. There was a yelp of pain and surprise from him as he staggered forward. Claire cried out and Gavroche gripped his right shoulder and fell to his knees.

"No! Gavroche!"

"You bastards! You bloody bastards!"

"He's just a child!"

"Gavroche, come back!"

"Someone stop him!"

"No! No!"

"Gavroche, come back this instance! Gavroche, please!" Claire begged.

"Hold Courfeyrac, Clark! Don't let him go! Don't let him go!" Enjolras ordered, and Claire held on even tighter to Courfeyrac's frantically squirming form.

"You better run for cover!" Gavroche yelled at the soldiers. "For when I grow-" A second bullet from the same marksman stopped him short.

He fell sideways onto the pavement and moved no more. His eyes were glazed over and they stared up at the sky. This grand little soul had taken its flight. Claire suppressed a scream and Courfeyrac slid down the barricade. Claire watched as he ran out in front of the soldiers and scooped up the body of Gavroche. He ran back, tears streaming down his face, and set Gavroche on the ground. He knelt over the corpse, keening. Everyone was silent, looking at the body of Gavroche.

"You at the barricades, listen to this!" The head soldier yelled into the silence. "You have no chance! No chance at all! Why throw your lives away?" He seemed genuinely concerned, as if he really didn't want to kill them.

Enjolras turned to look at the assembled men. Some were shaking with anger, and some had faces as equally stony and indifferent as his.

"Let us die facing our foes." He said, and Claire and the other's nodded.

"Let's make them bleed while we can." Courfeyrac said in agreement, wiping his eyes and looking away from Gavroche's still form.

"Let's make them pay for Bahorel and Gavroche." Marius declared.

The men let out a large cheer, but the head soldier wasn't finished addressing them.

"We have heard from a source that you have the princess. If you do have her hostage, release her and no more of you shall have to die."

The men glanced at each other in bewilderment, but Claire froze and went pale. She was conflicted. If she showed herself now, would they really let the men go without a fight? She doubted it; they were sent her by her father, and if her father ordered someone to be executed, well, they were seldom left alive.

"Vivé La France!" Claire shouted, and the men picked up the chant.

"Cannons!" The head soldier screamed. "Quick as you can, cannons!"

Claire grabbed a rifle and flattened out as much as possible on top of the barricade. Marius did the same on her right, and Enjolras was in an identical position on her left. All along the top of the barricade men were stretched out, waiting for Enjolras's order.

"Steady," He commanded as the first of the cannons rounded the corner. "Hold your fire... Steady, steady... Fire!" He yelled, and Claire pulled her trigger.

The soldiers at the cannon dropped. Another cannon rounded the corner and Claire reloaded quickly.

"Second cannon, fire!" Enjolras yelled, and Claire shot again.

"Take aim, Fire!" The head soldier yelled, and bullets whizzed by Claire's face.

"There are more men! There are more men, Enjolras!" Someone yelled, and indeed there were.

Troops of men poured around the corner, lowering their rifles in sync and firing at the barricade. Claire reloaded as fast as she could, but for every one man she shot, twenty bullets from the enemy ranks flew past. Another cannon was wheeled around the corner, but there weren't enough men to cover it. Before Claire could blink, the Head soldier had screamed for the cannon to fire. She ducked her head, as the wood around her splintered and burst, flinging deadly shards into the air. She watched as one man flew backwards off the barricade, a shard of wood a foot long protruding from his ribcage. She screamed as another cannon ripped into the barricade. Her scream was followed by countless others. She climbed down the barricade and grabbed hold of the dead man's arms, dragging him towards the wine shop where Claire could see Monsieur Madeleine taking the other dead and wounded. He was putting them side by side, many of them were screaming and crying, begging for mercy and writhing in agony, and some had gone completely still. She pulled the dead man into the line and then went back out into the street.

"Advance!" Claire heard the head officer yell, and a flood of blue uniformed soldiers poured over the barricade, forcing the other men back.

Claire raised her pistols and fired as fast as she could at the soldiers. Some of them dropped, but there were so many of them. They were shooting and using their bayonets, slashing mercilessly. Claire could see some of the men, bloodied and wounded, banging on doors and begging to be let inside, but to no avail.

"Watch out!" Someone screamed from behind her.

Claire ducked just in time to see a bayonet flash above her head. She shoved her pistol up into the soldiers gut and fired. He gasped, clutched his stomach, and fell to the ground. She stood quickly to see Enjolras racing towards the Café Musain; others were hot on his heels. She began to follow, but a hand grabbed her arm. She turned and raised her pistol only to see Monsieur Madeleine.

"Please, have you seen Marius?" He yelled over the screaming men.

Claire turned rapidly and saw Marius's freckled face. He was lying on the ground by the barricade. She couldn't tell if he was alive or not. She pointed and Monsieur Madeleine raced towards him. Claire turned back to the Café and sprinted as fast as she could. As she ran, something wrapped around her ankle and before she could slow down, she pitched forwards onto the hard ground, losing one of her pistols as she fell. She twisted around, panicking, and tried to pick herself back up. She looked to see what had latched onto her ankle and screamed again.  
It looked like a corpse, except it wasn't. The man's right leg was barely attached to the rest of his body, and his face was covered in blood. One of his eyes was completely gone, leaving a gaping eye hole. When he opened his mouth blood spilled out.

"Help me, please-" The man begged, pulling himself pathetically across the ground.

"Get off!" Claire cried, kicking her leg and standing. "I'm so sorry! I can't! There's nothing I can do, Oh, Jesus!" She gagged, but nothing came out of her mouth.

The man lowered his head to the ground and his body shook in what seemed like desperate sobs. Claire raised her remaining pistol and pointed it at the man's head. She pulled the trigger and the man stopped shaking. She let out a sob of her own as she opened the door to the Café frantically. There were about nine men that Claire could see, including Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Comberferre, Feuilly, Jean Prouvaire, Joly, and Lesgle. None looked grievously injured, but some were bleeding slightly. They were tearing apart the spiral stairs and using the wood to barricade the door.

"Go! Get to the second floor! I'll hold them off!" Jean Prouvaire said, lifting a pistol.

"As will I!" Lesgle cried, grabbing a glass bottle.

Enjolras nodded at them grimly and then leapt gracefully to the second floor, and Jean Prouvaire and Lesgle helped him lift the others up. Claire reached up and Enjolras grabbed her arms and yanked her up alongside him. There was a pounding at the door and Claire glanced down from the second floor to see the door burst open, shards of wood going flying, and soldiers swarmed in. Jean Prouvaire was hardly able to get one shot in before he was pinned to the wall with bullets. Lesgle threw two glass bottles before he was shot in the skull. Claire grabbed as many discarded bottles as she could and heaved them down at the soldiers' defenseless heads. Some of the bottles hit them, and some exploded at their feet, sending sharp glass everywhere. Enjolras pulled her away from the edge and Claire turned to see the others huddled in the center of the room. It was silent for a few heartbeats, but then there was the sound of several rifles being shot in unison and the six huddled men cried out before they dropped to the ground, blood seeping from their bodies. Claire gasped; about to take a step towards the still slightly stirring group of men, but Enjolras grabbed her arm and shook his head, putting a finger to his lips. They were the only ones left.

"Clark! Crawl in that cabinet over there! Now! Hurry!" Enjolras ordered quietly, pointing to a large wine cabinet.

"And let you die? No! I won't!" Claire said, but Enjolras grabbed the scruff of her collar and pulled her roughly to the cabinet, ignoring Claire's struggles.

"One of us should live!" He said as he opened the cabinet door and shoved Claire unceremoniously inside.

Claire rearranged herself and tried to push against the cabinet doors, but they were incredibly heavy. Enjolras moved to look out of the large window, and as he did so, he stooped to pick of a red flag that had been tossed to the floor. Claire heard the thunder of boots and eleven or so uniformed men appeared. She shoved against the doors again but they didn't budge. As the soldiers arrived, Enjolras turned slightly to look at them. His eyes were masked, and he seemed not to care that his life was about to end. They lowered their guns and took aim. Claire had both hands on the door of the cabinet, pushing with all the strength she had. She opened her mouth, preparing to yell. She wouldn't let them kill Enjolras!  
But they didn't shoot. The sound of gunshot's that Claire had been expecting didn't come. Claire turned her head as much as she could in the enclosed cabinet and saw Grantaire forcing his way through the crowd of soldiers. He crossed the room with a firm stride and placed himself in front of the guns beside Enjolras. He had a look of defiance on his face.

"Finish both off us at one blow." He said.

He turned to look at Enjolras. "Do you permit it?"

Enjolras nodded at him and raised the red flag over his head. Images flashed through Claire's panicked mind. They would be shot if she didn't move! The last of the rebellion, her dear friend, who was drunk even now, and the man she'd accidentally begun to love; the leader of a society which had for its object apparently the education of children-in reality the elevation of men, were about to be executed right in front of her. She shouted and the uniformed men looked in the direction of the cabinet, lowering their guns slightly.

"No!" Claire cried, shoving against the doors once again.

They finally opened and she struggled to climb out of the cabinet.

"No! Don't shoot them!" She screamed, standing up and pulling out her remaining pistol.

She didn't aim it at the soldiers, however. She strode forward and placed herself between the uniformed men and Grantaire and Enjolras. She lifted her chin and placed the gun on the underside of her jaw.

"If you execute them, I will shoot myself right here." She said with more confidence in her voice than she felt.

"Clark, what the hell are you doing?!" Enjolras asked, thunderstruck.

One of the soldiers laughed.

"And why do we care? That's just one bullet we don't have to waste ourselves." He said. "Lower the gun and we can shoot you all together. Your life means nothing to us."

"On the contrary, officer." Claire said, keeping the pistol in place. "My life means a great deal to you. You see, I am the only one in the world who knows where the princess is."

There was a sharp inhale of breath from both in front of and behind her.

"You're lying. You cannot possibly know." The head soldier, the one with the mustache, said, stepping forward.

"You're wrong. I know where the princess is," Claire said, keeping her steely eyes on the officer. "Because I am the one who kidnapped her. Kill these men and I will shoot myself, and then you'll never see the princess alive again."

**A/N okey dokey, I hope you liked that! Just FYI, at some point or another I'll have a new Les Mis fanfiction up, this time a E/R and Oc/Combeferre, but I'm still working on it, as well as my Harry Potter one, so it probably won't be updated very often if I even upload it at all, but if I do you should check it out; I'll keep you posted on the progress. Also, don't forget to follow me on tumblr, standing-in-the-clouds is my URL! And remember, that poor review box is probably close to death right now because it hasn't been fed in like, over a month, so please make sure it gets filled up! **

** A hollowed out elephant amount of love,**

** ~Jedss**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N okay, so I know it's been a long while, but here's chapter 11. This story is almost over, only a couple more chapters left. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Chapter 11**

Claire was seated on a hard bench with Enjolras on her right and Grantaire on her left. There was a table in front of them, a table that had somehow avoided becoming part of the barricade. All three of them had guns pressed painfully to their heads, and they had been warned several times that any wrong move would result in death. Sitting across from the three of them was the head officer, twirling his mustache with his fingers and contemplating. They'd been sitting this way for over an hour. Claire could feel how tense Grantaire and Enjolras were, but she was just worried. At some point she would have to tell them who she really was.  
The head officer cleared his throat.

"Where are you holding the princess? Tell us now or things will go very hard for you." He said, resting his palms on the table and leaning forward. "Do you mind if I smoke?" He asked politely, pulling out a cigar and lighting it without waiting for an answer.

"I won't say anything until they're freed." Claire stated, gesturing towards Enjolras and Grantaire.

"What're you playing at, you fool!?" Grantaire hissed, earning himself a whack in the back of the head from one the soldiers standing behind them.

"I can't do that, you know. There are other ways to make you talk." The head officer said, taking a long drag on his cigar and blowing the smoke out in Claire's face.

Claire grimaced and turned away, ignoring the obvious threat.

"His arm, Lieutenant." The head officer demanded, and Claire's arm was forced onto the table.

The Head officer took the cigar out of his mouth and blew on the tip of it, making the embers glow red. He lowered the burning tip to Claire's arm and seared its mark into her flesh. Claire closed her eyes and groaned against the pain. The cigar was removed, and the head officer looked into Claire's eyes. Claire only smirked.

"That was not beneficial, seeing as you still don't have the location of the princess."

The Head soldier frowned.

"Stand him up." He ordered, and rough hands grabbed Claire by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet.

They pulled her to the center of the room, where the bodies of her friends had just recently been dragged away to be placed in a heap by the ruined staircase. The soldiers released her, and she stood there defiantly, her feet a shoulder width apart and her arms straight down by her sides. The head soldier dropped his cigar and stamped it out with his heel before standing and striding to stand a foot away from her. His hand lashed out quickly and there was a resounding sound of his palm meeting the left side of Claire's face. He had a ring on his finger and it tore through the skin, leaving a shallow cut.  
Claire's head snapped to the right, her face feeling as if it were on fire, but she whipped it around quickly and glared at the mustached man. There was the sound of a struggle and Claire could see out of the corner of her eyes that Enjolras and Grantaire were trying to stand, but they were shoved back down and hit in the back of their heads with pistol butts.

A fist came out of nowhere and hit Claire on the nose. Her head swung backwards and she took an involuntary step back. She felt her hat beginning to slide off her head and she pulled it back down over her head as she straightened up and wiped the blood trickling from her nostrils.

"Do you believe this is helping you?" She asked, genuinely curious.

The soldier replied by placing a punch in the underside of Claire's chin, the ring leaving another bloody cut. Her teeth snapped together and she bit down on her tongue, hard. She grimaced as she turned her face to the head officer. She worked her mouth and then spit out a stream of spittle and blood which landed on his blue uniform. The mustached man calmly reached into his pocket and drew out a white handkerchief and wiped away the gob of spit from his jacket.  
He replaced the kerchief back into its pocket before rearing back, preparing to punch her in the stomach. Claire knew that if he succeeded, he would definitely break a rib or two. She braced herself, preparing for the impact. Before the head officer could follow through with his punch, however, a sound near the broken staircase caused him to turn. Claire looked over his shoulder to see a man with dull blue eyes and a blue jacket that was buttoned all the way up to his stubbly chin with brass buttons. The look was completed with a blue peaked hat. His eyes locked onto Claire, standing in the center of the room, her face bloodied by her nose and the cut on her cheek and underside of her chin.

_"Javert."_ Claire hissed, taking a step forward.

A hand wrapped around her arm and tried to pull her back but she shook it off. This only resulted in her being knocked in the back with the butt of a rifle. She fell to her hands and knees.

Javert stepped over the bodies of her friends and walked to stand in front of Claire. He leaned down and pulled her ungracefully to her feet.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked angrily, turning towards the head soldier. "Explain yourselves! _Now!_"

The head officer yanked his hat from his head and stood at attention.

"The boy has information regarding the princess, Sir." He said, gesturing towards Claire. "He refused to say anything. I was left with force being the only option, Sir."

"Of course _he_ does, you fool! And them?" Javert said, nodding towards Enjolras and Grantaire. They looked back at him with resentment in their eyes.

"The boy said he would kill himself if we executed them, Sir. And that we would never see the princess alive." The head officer replied, taking a step forward.  
"Of course you wouldn't see the princess alive again! If this _boy_ killed himself, the princess would die as well! You devious little-" He said, turning back to Claire.  
"Show them who you are." He commanded, glowering down at her.

"You haven't got the right to be telling me what to do." Claire said angrily, spitting out more blood onto the floor.

"You are coming with me-" Javert started, advancing on her.

"They are to go free, first!" Claire said, backing away and pointing at Enjolras and Grantaire. "That's all I've been asking-"

Javert reached forward with his left hand and wrapped it around Claire's right arm. He pulled her to him and placed her in front of him so that her back was to his chest and they both faced their audience. The soldiers all looked confused and unsure what to do, Enjolras looked furious, and Grantaire looked as if he were trying to figure out a rather complex puzzle.

"They will be released, but not at this moment! Not yet." Javert said loudly. "Now show them who you are!"

Claire sighed angrily and reached up to wrap her fingers around the brim of her hat. She slid it forcefully off her head and threw it to the floor, much like a child throwing a temper tantrum. Her blonde braid tumbled from where it had been folded up under her hat. The now slightly loosened braid, sticky with dirt, gun powder, and blood, stopped a few inches below her breast and came to rest. Claire was breathing heavily in anger, and she lifted the back of her hand to wipe it under her nose, which was still bleeding.

The soldiers still looked confused, but recognition had crossed Enjolras's face. Grantaire, already knowing her as a girl, squinted at her like he was trying to see what lay beneath the grime, dirt, and blood that covered Claire's face.

"Alright!" Claire yelled, trying to pull away from Javert but failing. "Now release these men!" She shouted.

"Claire?! Claire! What're you- unhand her! Claire!" Enjolras cried frantically, jumping up and causing the bench he'd been sitting on to flip over backwards, sending Grantaire tumbling to the floor. "I told you to stay in the room! Let her go-"

A soldier reached for him but Enjolras spun quickly and knocked him to the ground. He was able to take a few more steps towards her before three strong men held him back, two on either side and one in front.

"Enjolras, I'm sorry, I can explain everything-" Claire began, but Javert cut her off.

"These men are coming with us!" He exclaimed as he pulled a white handkerchief from his own pocket and pressed it into Claire's palm. "Hold this to your face, Highness."

"Highness!?" Enjolras said angrily. "No, _monsieur_, there is a mistake! That is not the princess that is a street girl, a gamine! She has no business with the princess, she shouldn't be here, she-"

"_Silence_!" Javert cried. "Follow the carriage! Bring these men! Now!"

He began pushing Claire towards the hole where the stairs used to be.

"No! No! You said you would release them!" Claire yelled, turning and trying to fight against Javert. "Let them go! They haven't done anything! Stop! Enjolras!"

The soldiers looked unsure of what to do. She was the princess, after all, her words were practically law...

"Do not listen to her, she is simply in hysterics. She's not of her right mind as of this moment." Javert said, keeping a firm grip on Claire's arm.

A soldier jumped down the hole and held his arms up. Javert continued to push the resisting Claire, and because she was now being ushered backwards, she did not see the approaching gap in the floor. As she took an unwilling step backwards, her foot found open air instead of wood flooring and she disappeared from the second story of the café and into the awaiting soldier's arms. She struggled against him as well as he set her feet on the floor. Another soldier put a forceful hand on the small of her back and forced her to walk. His hand was replaced with Javert's as he opened the Café's door and pushed her out into the gray street. The cobblestone ground was practically flooded with streaming red blood and bodies of both soldiers and her friends were strewn everywhere. She was surrounded by men in blue as they approached a waiting carriage. She was ordered to step up into it and as she did, she twisted forcefully to glance behind her. In the sea of blue uniformed men, a red waistcoat stood out sharply.

Enjolras's eyes locked on Claire's for an instant before she was shoved the rest of the way into the carriage. She sat on the cushioned red velvet seats and glared at Javert as he climbed in and sat across from her.

"Your Highness-" He started, but Claire cut him off.

"You should be dead." Claire hissed, spitting more blood onto the carriage floor.

"You're injured." Javert said, ignoring her. "I will see that Officer Bruno is dealt with-"

"I do not care!" Claire cried, throwing her hands in the air. "I've been beaten before! This isn't a new experience for me! And don't act so innocent, _monsieur_, because you aren't guilt free here! I was handled roughly by you when you believed me to be a gamin!"

"You are not one to say who's guilty, Majesty." Javert said, leaning back. "Your mother and father have been worrying for weeks about your safety, only to see that you've been in cohorts with rebellious young men- who knows what you've done with them-" Javert accused, eyeing her.

Claire exploded in anger.

"What I've done?! What are you assuming, exactly?! What I've done is helped them with their cause and stand with them at the barricade as we got shot at! I stood by them as they were killed one by one because of _my _father-" Claire yelled, not realizing that the carriage door had been reopened by the head officer.

Javert noticed, however, and he saw that the two men that Claire had demanded be released were standing behind him, their hands cuffed with thick manacles. The one with curly black hair and brown eyes and pink cheeks seemed slightly drunk, but also a bit doubtful. The one with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes had an expression of deepest hatred, loathing, and defiance as he glared up at Javert.

"So you could, in all honesty, tell me that you haven't any...Unseemly feelings or interactions with any of these men you've been plotting with?" Javert asked, smirking.

"I don't have to answer to you, you bastard." Claire growled, but Javert could see her face turn the slightest bit pink.

"Sir!" The head officer, Officer Bruno, said, bringing Claire's attention to the open carriage door, and to Enjolras and Grantaire. "Are they to be marched behind the carriage, or-"

"Bring them in," Javert ordered. "And you as well. Bring an armed soldier in too; they must be under armed surveillance at all times."

Officer Bruno nodded, pushing Enjolras forward. He resisted, but another forceful shove caused him to trip up into the coach and land heavily on his knees. He looked up at Javert with fire in his eyes.

Claire reached down cautiously and placed her hands on Enjolras's elbows. He tensed, but allowed her to help him back to his feet. He moved unsteadily to sit on the cushioned seat to Claire's right. Grantaire entered next, but he didn't put up a fight. He sat dejectedly to Claire's left and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Officer Bruno and another soldier, both armed with pistols that were pointed at Grantaire and Enjolras, ascended into the carriage. As they sat down across from them next to Javert, the carriage lurched forward, headed, Claire knew, to the castle.

Claire felt something drip onto her right pant leg, and she looked down to see a spot of blood. As she watch another drop joined it. She tilted her head to see the underside of Enjolras's jaw. It was clenched, and he was glaring out the window at the street as it blurred by. People were looking up at with surprise mixed with curiosity as it passed them. His cheek had a cut that was dripping.

"Enjolras, you're bleeding-" Claire said quietly, taking her thumb and wiping the blood from his face.

Enjolras didn't react, he just continued to glower.

"Highness," Javert started, and Claire grimaced.

"Do not call me that!" Claire said, shooting him with her frostiest frown.

"My apologies. I would advise you not speak to the prisoners-"

"Prisoners?!" Claire said angrily.

"-For fear of them manipulating you further-"

"Manipulating me _further_?! No, I assure you, _sir_, there was no manipulation involved-" Claire said indignantly.

Javert didn't answer, and the rest of the journey to the castle was made in awkward silence. When the carriage stopped in front of the huge grand entrance, the soldier closest to the door opened it and jumped out. He reached back in a grabbed Enjolras roughly by the elbow and hauled him out, then Grantaire. Javert stepped out after Officer Bruno and held out his hand for Claire. She reached for it, but pulled her hand back at the last moment. She descended without help and stood on the stone ground. She looked up at the castle, her home, and her face darkened.

Javert began to lead her in the opposite direction from where Officer Bruno was leading Enjolras and Grantaire. She stopped and turned.

"They are to stay with me!" She demanded, planting her feet on the ground.

"I cannot allow that." Javert answered, trying to get Claire moving again, but she didn't budge.

"They are to stay with me." Claire said in a voice so low and menacing that Javert looked taken aback.

He made a disapproving grunting sound, but Claire ignored his sound of protest.

"If they are not, Officer-"she lowered her voice threateningly and went to stand in front of Officer Bruno.

She grabbed his jacket and pulled his face lower to hers.

"If they do not stay with me, you will be immensely sorry. Do you understand? That is an _order_." She pushed him away and strode past Javert.

She walked up a large flight of marble steps with Javert right behind her. Officer Bruno nodded to his men and Grantaire and Enjolras were shuffled up the stairs as well, following the fuming girl. Claire banged on the huge castle door with her fist. The door was opened slightly by a timid serving maid, and Claire squeezed past her into the large entrance room. The ceiling was domed and everything was made of frothy white colored marble. Dozens of intricate vases with bouquets of purple, white, yellow, and pink flowers lined the walls and sat on the many marble columns. Portraits of past kings and queens cluttered the wall.  
As Claire walked quickly by them, she saw her great grandfather, then her grandfather. She didn't look up when she passed her father's portrait, or her mothers, but she gave a slight pause as she passed the portrait of herself.

She had been fourteen at the time, and she had been wearing an incredibly uncomfortable puffy lavender ball gown. Her silvery crown had been placed high on her head. Her blonde hair had been braided and piled on her head in an elegant bun that had taken the four maids working on it hours to do, because many pearls and jewels had been woven into the braid. Claire hated the portrait, and she frowned up at it before racing around a corner of the main castle corridor.  
She burst through a pair of large double doors that Claire knew led to the throne room, and a moment later they were opened again, less violently, by Javert and Officer Bruno, who was escorting the two revolutionists. Claire stormed in and strode up the long red carpet which led to the thrones.

"What in the- What is the meaning of this?!" She heard her father, King Louis Philippe, exclaimed in shock and anger as he took in her ragged and dirty form.

Claire stopped and looked up at him. He was sitting regally on his large throne, and Claire's mother was sitting on the slightly smaller throne beside him.

"Majesty!" Javert said, slightly out of breath as he bowed low. "I came to announce the arrival of Princess Clairette, your daughter." He stood up and gestured to Claire, who was also breathing heavily.

"My daughter- Clairette, my darling, can it be?" Claire's mother asked mouth agape. She stood quickly, her pink dress swirling around her ankles as she did so.

Claire rolled her eyes. She had probably practiced that action for hours just to get her dress to swirl perfectly like that. The queen hurried delicately down the small steps that led to the floor and rushed to where Claire was standing.

"Oh Claire, it is you! What has happened to you!? Why are you dirty?" She asked, taking her gloved hands and fluttering them around Claire, brushing off dirt and wiping blood from Claire's face. "Oh, Darling, you must have been so frightened! I'm so relieved that you're safe-"

"Ugh, Mother, get off!" Claire said, taking a step back.

Her father descended the steps and stood before her, looking stern.

"Who took her? Did you catch them?" He asked Javert, who was standing a few feet away, his hat in his hands.

Javert opened his mouth to speak, but Claire cut him off.

"I was not taken! Mother, stop! No one was responsible for my disappearance-"

"She was discovered at the Barricade, Highness. She was dressed as a boy and fighting with the resistance. All but these two of the men responsible have been killed." Javert said, interrupting.

"Why not those two?" Claire's father asked, looking pointedly at Enjolras and Grantaire, who stood by the wall with guns pointed at them. "Why did they take her to the barricade?"

"Did they force her to fight?!" Claire's mother asked, aghast.

"No! Mother, I wasn't-They didn't-"

"We are unsure of what their intentions were. She threatened to kill herself if the last two rebels were executed. We've brought them with us-" Javert answered.

"Well, execute them immediately! Kill these men responsible for my daughter's kidnapping!" The king ordered.

"No!" Claire yelled, pulling away from her clinging mother once again. "Do not! They haven't done anything!"

"Sweetheart, you're just confused. Those are bad men, and no matter how well they treated you, they're still bad. They took you away, Darling. They may have fed you lies, but-"

"I'm not confused!" Claire screamed, backing away. "I wasn't kidnapped! Are you all so daft-" She threw her hands in the air. "I _ran away_! I _chose _to go fight at the barricade! They aren't my captors, they are my _friends_! Every man that was executed was my _friend_! You-" she turned to her father. "Don't you pretend to care that I was missing-"

"Claire, please." Her father said, holding is hands out to her. "Of course I was worried! I was, your mother was, your cousin André, he came to visit. He's still here. He'll be ecstatic to know you're safe-"

"Oh, Hell!" Claire cried. "Don't use _dear _cousin André against me now! I'm not an unintelligent female as you all believe me to be! I, fortunately, did not inherit that specific trait." Claire shot a murderous glance at her mother. "I can tell you all specifically why you were worried. Cousin André was worried because he believed that if I was dead, he would not be able to marry me and inherit this kingdom. Mother, you were worried because who would you dress up and force to be your living doll if not me? And father, you were only worried because you thought that you would not be able to pass your kingdom on."

Claire was breathing heavily and her chest was heaving in anger and sorrow, because even though she knew that everything she had said was true, she didn't realize just how true it was before she'd said it out loud. She glanced behind her and saw the look of shock on Javert's face.

_"See what you've brought me back too?"_ She thought angrily.

"Claire, you know that's not true. We love you-" Claire's mother said, reaching towards her.

"No! You don't know the meaning of love!" Claire said harshly. "You don't even love Father, how could you love me? All you love are things that can't love you back, like jewelry and dresses and shoes and power!"

"Why did you run away?" Claire's father asked, not bothering to deny what Claire had said.

"I left to fight against you." Claire said, lowering her voice. "I'm against everything you stand for. This isn't the first time. I ran away five years ago to fight against the French when the British invaded. You didn't even notice I had gone."

"Why?"

"Because the way you rule this country is wrong. You treat the people of the streets like they are vermin that are in need of eradication, and you act as if your soldiers lives are nothing, and can just be thrown away, like pawns-"

"People who think like you and speak out about it, and take action, and stage rebellions, they are executed, you do realize." He father said angrily, advancing on her.

"Then execute me." Claire said defiantly, lifting her head and meeting her father's steely gaze with one equally stony. "Take me out to the guillotine now and slice off my head. At least I'll die an honorable death, unlike you, who will die the pathetic death of a-"

Claire's mother let out a loud sob.

"Stop, stop! You don't know what you're saying!" She howled, grabbing on to Claire and wrapping her arms protectively around her. "There's no need for such hatred! My only child, no! You're not going to be killed, don't talk such nonsense-"

"Mother, get off! Stop crying!" Claire demanded, pushing the crying mess away from her.

"I will do no such thing." Claire's father said sternly. "Do not speak in such a way to your mother." He turned to Javert. "Take those men outside and shoot them-"

"If they are to be shot, I am too!" Claire said, backing up in the direction of Enjolras and Grantaire.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"If they are killed, I will die with them." Claire said firmly, continuing to back up. "Even if I don't die at the same time; if they are killed today, no matter what I have to do, I will make sure I am not alive by tomorrow morning."

Claire had reached Enjolras and Grantaire, and she stood next to them, placing a hand on Grantaire's arm and looking very determined.

"What are you expecting of me?" the king asked, aware that Claire had put him at a loss.

"They are to go to my wing." Claire ordered.

The King began to shake his head, saw Claire's determined gaze, grimaced, and nodded curtly. Enjolras and Grantaire were shoved at gunpoint back out the door they had entered from. Claire was about to follow but thin gloved fingers wrapped around her wrist. Claire turned to see her mother gesturing to an elderly maid.

"Alina, run my daughter a bath in my quarters." She ordered. "Bring her with you."

"Yes, Majesty." The maid dipped in a curtsey and took Claire by the elbow, steering her towards a different door.

"No! I don't have time, I need to go to my own quarters, and I need to see-" Claire protested, but the maid clicked her tongue and shook her head.

"You can go see your men when I've completed the task of cleaning you." She pulled the objecting girl through hallway after hallway until they reached a door that a younger, brunette maid was just locking up.

"Emilie, go get Alice and Gertie. We are to bathe the princess." Alina ordered, and the one called Emilie nodded before scurrying off.

Claire was forced through the door and dragged to the center of the room. The floor was tiled, and there was a bath off to the side. It wasn't a regular bath; it was more of a large circular, four foot deep depression in the floor. The entire room was different shades of pink.

"Alina, please, I just need to see if my friends-"

"Those boys can wait." She said as the bath began to fill with steaming water.

The door opened again and the three young maids entered. They each curtsied to Claire and said their names in turn. Gertie had unruly blonde curls, Alice had red hair pulled back in a severe bun and freckles, and Emilie was the one that had been about to lock the door.  
"Alice!" Alina said with authority. "Get those petals in the water!" She indicated to a bowl of rose petals. "Gertie, get these filthy rags off her- Emilie, her hair!"

Claire felt hands start to unbraid her filthy, matted hair, and her arms were stuck out to her sides. The scent from the different perfumes in the bath was beginning to make Claire feel dizzy and things began to blur. Before she knew what had happened, she was standing stark naked.

"Alina, what should I do with these?" Gertie asked.

Claire turned woozily to see Gertie holding her blood and dirt covered clothing.

"They're rubbish. Toss them out-"

"No! Please, don't!" Claire pleaded, stumbling forward and trying to yank the jacket from Gertie's steel-like grip. "It's Bahorel's, please, not this!"

Alina looked at Claire curiously but nodded nonetheless.

"Not the jacket, then, Gertie. Get it washed and pressed. Emilie, is her hair brushed out? Good. Alice, is the water ready? Splendid-right this way, Highness..."

Claire let herself get steered into the bath. It was burning hot but she didn't notice. Her mind was on much more important things. Would they be in her quarters? Or had her father lied? Oh, god what if they were already dead?! She felt hands press down gently on her head, and she reluctantly dunked under the water. She felt hands rubbing something into her scalp, and soon she was allowed to come up and breathe. More hands had grabbed both of her legs and scratchy tools were being used to scrape away almost a month's worth of dirt and grime. She looked down at her hands and watched as the blood slowly floated in the water. The blood of her friends would meet its end down the drain in the tub of a castle.

"I'm so sorry..." She whispered one last time as it floated away and dispersed. She was brought to a standing position and she stepped out of the bath, her wet hair clinging to her dripping skin. A warm towel was patting her dry and a brush was going through her hair almost instantly. One of the maids attempted to wrap a corset around her waist but Claire pushed it away. She felt someone lift one foot at a time and undergarments were pulled up her legs.

"What dress would you like to wear, My Lady?" Alina asked.

"I don't care. I just want to get to my quarters! I-" Alina cut off the rest of what Claire had to say by pulling a simple dress down over her head.

The dress was floor length, and the skirt puffed out only slightly at her waist. The sleeves went to her elbows and weren't puffed at all. The neckline scooped down to expose her neck and collarbones, and stopped at the beginning of her chest, just low enough to reveal a hint of breasts. The fabric was a dark purple with designs that looked like silver smoke that started thick at the end of the dress, but spread out the farther up they went.

Now fully dressed, Claire suddenly made a break for the door. She swung the door open wide, almost knocking over Gertie.

"Your shoes, Miss!" She yelled after her as Claire sprinted down the carpeted hallway.

Claire ignored her and grabbed her skirt around her knees as she ran so that she could run even faster. She turned corner after corner until she reached another pair of double doors. She stopped to catch her breath, putting a hand on the wall to brace herself. Finally she stood up straight and faced the doors. These doors were the entrance to her quarters. She took a deep breath to compose herself and slowly opened them.  
- Her wing of the castle consisted of several rooms. Entering there was a large parlor with a wood floor and a big patterned rug. The walls had been painted a cozy cream color. It had a fireplace with a desk next to it, two sofas, an overstuffed armchair, and a table with six chairs. To the left near the fireplace was another door that led to the washroom. On the right side of the parlor were three doors. The closest to the entrance door led to a tall tower. The purpose of this was so that the large, circular walls could be lined with incredibly tall bookshelves. There were two ladders, one which aided in getting books off of higher shelves, and one which led to a window seat, complete with throw pillows and white carpeting, about fifteen feet off the ground. The door farthest from the parlor entrance led to Claire's bedchamber, and the door in the center was yet another bed chamber that was identical to Claire's except for the color scheme, which were all shades of purple instead of shades of white. It would have been Claire's younger sister's room, if she had not died from illness at the age of two. Now it was simply a spare room that was cleaned weekly by the maids to keep things from getting too dusty.

Claire took a step inside and turned to close the door behind her. She held her breath as she turned around again to face the room. There was no one in the area. He heart hammered against her chest and there was a ringing silence in her ears. She felt her throat close up.

"Enjolras?" She croaked out. "Grantaire?"

She rushed to the washroom and flung open the door. No one.

"No, no, no, no-" Claire repeated.

She was beginning to panic. She ran across the room and slammed the library door open. Again, she was greeted by silence and an empty room. She turned around swiftly and sprinted to her own bedchamber. She turned the knob and the door creaked open. She pushed it the rest of the way, holding her breath.

"Enjolras?"

She opened the door wider and stepped inside. There was nobody in her room, either. She let out a cry of frustration, fear, and sorrow as she left the room and slammed the door shut. She turned to look over her quarters and spied the last door. She went to the desk near the fireplace and fumbled in one of the drawers blindly until her fingers wrapped around what she was looking for. Claire pulled it out and looked at the small object lying in her palm. It was a small silver key. Claire gripped it in her fist as she walked back to the spare room. She put the key in the lock hesitantly and turned it. There was a faint _pop _and the door opened just slightly. Claire pushed against it silently and it opened wider. What Claire saw made her gasp loudly.

Grantaire was laying face-up on the purple canopied bed, his shackled hands on his forehead, and he was breathing heavily in slumber. His boots and socks were discarded at the base. Enjolras was pacing back and forth angrily in front of the locked balcony window, glaring at the floor. His hands were twisting restlessly in their bonds. He turned when he heard Claire gasp. His eyes fell on her, and they widened in surprise and then narrowed concern as Claire leaned back against the door and raised her hand to wipe away tears that she couldn't stop from falling.

"I'm sincerely sorry, Madame, if this room belongs to you- we were locked in here by guards, and-" Enjolras looked like he was at a loss of what to say.

Clearly he wasn't very experienced with crying females. Claire shook her head and tried to compose herself.

"Enjolras!" She squeaked, taking a step forward. "Enjolras- I thought- I couldn't find you- I thought they'd- you weren't out there- I believed that they'd killed you!" She choked out before stumbling to the bed and sitting down at the foot of it.

Confused, Enjolras took a step forward as well.

"Madame, I'm sorry to have disturbed you like this, really, I-"

Claire looked up and met his gaze. Her gray eyes met his blue ones and recognition crossed his face.

"Claire?" He asked, thunderstruck.

Before Claire could reply, Grantaire stirred and kicked her in the side with his bare foot. Claire grunted and Grantaire lifted his chin groggily to look at what his foot had come in contact with.

"Wha'd meh foot 'it?" He asked, as his dreary eyes landed on Claire. "Oh, damn, I apologize-" He said as he sat up. "I didn't mean teh hurt yeh-"

He froze as he looked at Claire again.

"Claire? Is that you?" He asked, and Claire nodded.

"I'm so glad you two are alright, I thought for sure they had killed you and I was so worried-" Claire started, but was cut off by a pillow slamming into the side of her face.

They may be soft to lie on, but when they hit you at high speed it feels like you're being slapped.

"Ow! Grantaire, wha-" Claire yelped, but again she was hit.

"A bloody princess, Claire?" He yelled angrily. "Merde, Claire! What the hell? I mean, I knew Clark was you, but-" He hit her again. "I didn't know you were a bloody princess!"

"Grantaire, stop! That hurts!" Claire cried, yanking the pillow from his grasp and flinging it across the room where it hit the wall with a dull thud.

Grantaire's shoulders sagged and he leaned against the headboard, defeated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, looking hurt.

"I couldn't. You know I couldn't. I couldn't risk getting caught, or turned in, or-"

"You really think I would have turned you in?" Grantaire asked, looking up at her downheartedly.

"Of course not. I just couldn't risk anything..." Claire said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Wait... Grantaire, you knew she was Clark?" Enjolras said, confused. "Claire, you were always Clark? Clark was never a real- it was you the whole time?"

Claire and Grantaire nodded guiltily.

"So that night when Clark kissed me, it was you?"

Claire nodded again.

"And you knew?" Enjolras asked, turning on Grantaire

"Yea."

Enjolras looked at the ceiling, seething. He lowered his fiery gaze back to Claire.

"The woman in the blue dress. The one you said was a Brit. The woman that donated the money-"

"Was me as well." Claire said, looking down and clasping her hands in her lap.

Enjolras started to pace once again, putting the pieces together in his head.

"If you were Clark the whole time, and Clark was at the barricade, but I had told you to stay in the room so you would be safe- you lied to me?"

Claire looked down at her bare feet pitifully.

"I couldn't stay and let you die. I needed to be there to make sure you stayed safe, too! You told me that all I could do was pray, but you and I both know that praying is a load of rubbish! And then you almost did die, and I was able to stop it-"

"Which resulted in you getting beat half to death." Grantaire grumbled, but Enjolras ignored him.

"You should have let them shoot me." He said angrily, turning to face her.

"I couldn't let you die." Claire countered.

"Why? You don't care about the cause. It was just a good excuse for you to run away-"

"How could I not care about the cause?! The cause is the only reason I ran away! I ran away with the sole purpose of finding and joining the cause and bringing down my father! I believe in it with my whole heart-"

"You're a princess!" Enjolras spit out as if it were a curse.

"That shouldn't matter, I still care-"

"You don't believe in anything!" Enjolras hissed.

"I believe in you." Claire whispered, wiping angrily at her eyes that, despite her fighting, had begun to tear up.

Enjolras went silent, and he stared down at Claire, who was shivering at the foot of the bed.

"Claire," Grantaire said hesitantly, crawling over and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you go see if you can get the key for these?"

He held up his manacled hands and shook them slowly, so that the chains clinked together. Claire wiped her eyes one last time and nodded stiffly. She stood up and strode to the door. She put her shaking fingers on the doorknob, but before she opened it, she turned to speak.

"This door is unlocked now. Come out when you're ready- you're free to leave. There's a washroom and a pantry," She said to Grantaire. "The library is in the room to the left." Her eyes flickered to Enjolras for a moment before she returned her gaze to the floor. "I'm going to go now."

She opened the door and left, leaving the two men alone.

**A/N right, so, that was chapter 11. I hope you liked it! Remember, I really like reviews, so if you could spare some time to drop a review in the hungry review box that would be lovely. Thanks, you're all wonderful!**

** Much Love,**

** ~Jedss**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Okay, so this is the last chapter for this story (sorry!) I know it's not that long, but I hope you enjoy it!  
**

Enjolras didn't know what to think. He strode to the locked balcony door and glared out at the darkening sky. He didn't know what time it was, but it had to be almost eight. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned his icy glare on Grantaire, who was standing next to him.

"Was I the only one who didn't know that Clark was Claire?" Enjolras ask grumpily.

"No. I was the only one who knew. And I only found out by accident. I came into your room while she was sleeping and, well... She sleeps with no clothes on, and she made me swear that I wouldn't tell anyone..." Grantaire looked down guiltily.

"I didn't know you were capable of keeping secrets." Enjolras said as he lifted his head and stared at the high ceiling.

"I can keep secrets when a pretty girl begs me." Grantaire said, smirking.

Enjolras glowered at him and turned back to look out at the sky.

"You know," Grantaire began, keeping his voice low. "She really cares a lot. She wanted the rebellion to work just as much as you did."

"Why, though?" Enjolras asked, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the cool glass. "Why would she do that? She has so much here! Clothes, food, warmth, money-"

"So did you and you started the rebellion! Maybe that's the reason she cared so much. Imagine waking up every morning in a fancy bed, knowing you were about to eat a warm breakfast, and then looking out of your window at the streets below and seeing people laying in the streets, either dead or close to it! She probably didn't think it was fair, and she wanted to change it. And you heard her exchange with the King just as well as I did, she got to see close up how awful he is. We've all been through a lot; fighting and being angry won't bring anyone back. She-"

"I get it, Grantaire." Enjolras said, keeping his eyes closed and his head pressed firmly against the glass.  
He was trying to stay mad but his anger was ebbing, leaving him feeling guilty and ashamed at how he had just treated Claire.

"She talked about you so much I wanted to cut off my ears with a rusty knife." Grantaire said, smiling. "When she'd first joined, she talked about how amazingly passionate you were about the cause."

Enjolras shook his head.

"And then later, once you started giving her the silent treatment, after the kiss, she began asking questions..."

Enjolras opened his eyes and glanced at Grantaire.

"That's enough, Grantaire."

"Get her drunk enough and she'll either start saying the most inspirational words you've ever heard, or the saddest, most heartbroken whimpers you've ever heard. And, you wouldn't believe it, but every single one was about you or the cause." Grantaire continued, laughing. "I've never seen a girl drink as much as her. But I guess it was because she wanted to keep up her boy persona, but wow. She's so small, I don't know how she held it all-"

"I said enough!" Enjolras growled, pushing away from the glass and striding across the room towards the door.

At that moment the door swung open and Claire burst in, breathing heavily and holding a key in her left fist. She slammed the door behind her and brushed by Enjolras as if he wasn't there, even though he was staring at her in shock.

"Claire, wha-" Grantaire began, but Claire turned on him.

"SHHH!" She hissed, falling to her knees and crouching on the side of the bed that wasn't facing the door.

"Claire, what on Earth are you doing?"Enjolras asked, walking towards her.

"Please, Enjolras, hush!" Claire begged, out of breath. "Get down!"

Worried, both men crouched down and crawled to either side of her behind the bed. She used the key in her hand to unlock their bound hands.

"Claire, please, what's wrong?" Grantaire asked, rubbing his wrists.

Claire hurriedly explained in rushed whispers.

"I went to find someone with a key for your manacles, and I finally did, but as I was turning to come back I saw my cousin André, and I _hate _my cousin, and I had to run, but of course I couldn't run directly back here because he would know, and so I had to go a different way, but he _followed _me! But I made it back, and- oh God- Enjolras I'm so sorry I lied to you and kept so many secrets from you and I'm sorry that I got you attacked and beat up and I'm sorry the rebellion failed and it's my fault because Javert got away and he knew who I was! That's what he meant when he said he knew my face and-" Claire had her forehead in her palms and her elbows were resting uncomfortably on her knees. "And I understand if you want to-to leave and- and never s- see me again, and if you b-blame me for everything and everyone who died, and I'm being so weak and pathetic now, and I'm sorry for that, too, and I know you think I'm not capable of thinking of anything but me and I know that since you know my parents can't love, you think I can't either and I used to think that until I ran away and met you, and-"

Grantaire grabbed her arms and pulled them away from her face.

"Claire-" he whispered. "Stop apologizing! I swear to god if you apologize for one more thing, I'm going to carry you to that balcony and throw you off of it!"

Claire smiled weakly, but her smile faltered when she saw Enjolras's stern face.

"Enjolras, I-"

"Just don't ever- don't you ever lie to me again. Or keep secrets like this." Enjolras said, meeting Claire's gaze.

"No, of course I wouldn't, I-"

"And tell Clark that I apologize for the way I treated him after he kissed me."

"He forgives you." Claire said, smiling slightly.

"Tell Princess Clairette that I'm sorry for the way I treated her when she was last in this room."

"I think she forgives you, too." Claire crawled closer to him so that their knees were only an inch apart. "But I really am sorry for... For everything."

"I know, Claire." Enjolras said, leaning closer and moved Claire's still slightly damp hair from her face with his right hand.

Claire leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Enjolras's. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Claire, I didn't think I could ever love anything other than France, either, until-" Enjolras began, taking her hand.

Before he could finish his sentence, however, Claire's hand was ripped from his and she was being pulled to her feet. A strong arm knocked her unstable feet out from under her and she was hoisted up into the arms of Grantaire.

"Grantaire, what-" Claire started, but Enjolras beat her to it.

"Grantaire what in God's name are you doing?" He said, jumping to his feet and glowering at the smirking brunette.

"I told her if she apologized once more I was going to throw her over the balcony."

"Both of you be quiet! Please!" Claire whispered loudly, crossing her arms as well as she could. "André could be here at any moment!"

Grantaire chuckled and walked to the bed, Enjolras following exasperatedly. Grantaire dropped her unceremoniously onto the mattress and flopped down next to her. Enjolras walked to the edge of the bed, looking down at him grumpily.

"So," Grantaire said, ignoring Enjolras's stern gaze and reaching to put his arm around Claire. "Do you happen to have any wine here in this castle?"

Claire gasped and was about to scold him when the sound of the doorknob being turned caused her to freeze. The door opened slightly and a black gloved hand was visible.

"Clairette? Are you in here?" A deep voice asked, and the door opened further to reveal a man dressed in rich clothing.  
The man had long brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail with a black ribbon. His chin was sharp and he was clean shaven, unlike the two other men in the room. His eyes seemed to have no color at all and were narrowed as they swept the room before falling on the bed.  
It was silent for a few heartbeats while the man stared at what was before him, and Claire, Grantaire, and Enjolras stared back. Claire knew how this must look; she was laying on a bed, her dress and hair disheveled, with a man lying next to her, and another man nearby.

"What the bloody hell?!" The man yelled, storming across the room and yanking Claire off the bed roughly and dragging her back a couple steps.

"André-" Claire cried, trying to pull her arm out of André's grasp, but he just tightened it painfully. "Ow, André, let go! It's not what-"

"Who are you?" André asked Grantaire and Enjolras accusingly.

"They're friends, André! It's nice to see you again, why don't we go talk out-" Claire said, attempting to distract him, but he would have none of it.

"Be quiet! Who the hell are these men and what were you doing on the bed with one of them?!" André said angrily, spittle spraying from his mouth.

"Nothing! Really! Ow, André, please don't-" André gripped her arm even tighter and twisted her around to face him.

"It better have been nothing- I don't want my future wife to be tainted and spoiled now, understand?" With that he grabbed Claire's jaw with his free gloved hand and bent his head to kiss her roughly.

Claire tried to pull her head back, but his firm grip kept her head in place and he flipped her around to press her forcefully against the wall. He separated their faces for a moment to turn to the stunned men.

"Out, now!" He ordered before violently pressing his mouth on Claire's again, this time attacking her lips with his tongue, trying to gain entrance.  
She growled and tried to shove him away, but he just pressed her against the wall even harder, making it impossible for Claire to get any strength behind her shoves. André pushed his tongue between her lips and Claire opened her mouth and bit down hard on it with her teeth. He roared and reared back, blood coming out of his mouth. He lifted a hand to strike her but before his gloved hand came in contact with her face, he was pulled off of her, and she felt a hand grasp her own and pull her away from the wall. Grantaire put another hand on her back and pulled her around the bed so that they stood on the opposite side of where Enjolras and André stood facing each other.

The look on André's face was scary- he looked like he was going to beat Enjolras into unconsciousness. Enjolras's face, however, was downright terrifying. He didn't look like he wanted to just beat André, no, he looked like he wanted to kill him, and then beat the remaining corpse into oblivion.

"How dare you lay hands on me!" André was saying.

"How dare you lay hands on her!" Enjolras said angrily, gesturing at Claire.

"She is to be my wife!" André said, aiming a blow at the side of Enjolras's head.

Enjolras ducked quickly, causing André to lose his balance and fall to the floor. Enjolras took advantage of this and put his knee in the small of André's back and put his fingers around his neck.

"I'll have you killed for this!" André said, struggling under Enjolras's weight.

"Is that so?" Enjolras said in a dark growl, tightening his grip on André's neck.

André chocked and spluttered, trying to draw breath in vain.

"Enjolras, stop." Claire said loudly, and Enjolras turned his head to look at her.  
With the sheen of sweat around his face, dried blood on his forehead, and his halo of golden curls, he looked like an angel that had tragically fallen from heaven.

"Enjolras, get off of him. Please." Claire whispered, gently pushing Grantaire's hand off of her shoulder with her own and walking around the bed slowly.

Enjolras frowned but stood up all the same, straightening his blood red waistcoat as he did so. André continued to lie on the floor, trying to catch his breath. Finally he climbed unsteadily to his feet, using the wall to support himself.

"André." Claire said coldly, looking up at his colorless eyes. "If you force me into a marriage, you will find that it will be one of the worst mistakes of your pathetic life."

André glared at her and raised his hand as if to strike her, but the sound of the other two men in the room moving closer caused him to hesitate. He lowered his hand and didn't say a word as he spun around and exited the room. Claire let out a long breath and turned to Enjolras and Grantaire.

"I'm going to go get us something to eat." She stated, walking towards the door.  
Enjolras and Grantaire followed close behind, just in case André was still hanging about.

"There's a washroom right over there," She said, pointing. "You two can get cleaned up. I can make something for us."

The two men, sweaty, dirty, and covered in dried blood, nodded and headed towards the door she'd pointed too.  
Claire went into the adjoined kitchen and started pulling out things she would need for beef soup.

Enjolras exited the large washroom fifteen minutes later, the dirt, blood, and sweat washed away. He was drying his unruly golden curls with a towel as he walked out, and once he finished, he placed it on the door handle. He turned around slowly to see Claire in the kitchen hair pulled back, dress sleeves rolled up, elbow deep in chopped vegetables, and humming to herself. He stood and watched for a minute as she scooped the vegetables into her hands and then transferred them into a large pot on the cook stove. She took a large wooden spoon and stirred it before taking it out and placing it on the countertop. She disappeared into the pantry, and Enjolras walked into the kitchen.  
He saw her discarded knife and a few small carrots and potatoes that she'd neglected to cut. He was just looking into the pot on the stove when Claire returned from the panty.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, almost dropping the bread she was holding before she collected herself. "All cleaned up?"

"Yes, I am thank you." Enjolras said, turning towards her. "What're you making?"

"Uh, beef soup. They just restocked the pantry so everything's fresh." Claire answered, going to stand next to him and setting down the bread.

"Why do you have a kitchen in your wing?" Enjolras asked, taking the bread from her and starting to slice it with the knife expertly.

"Oh," Claire said watching him slice the bread methodically. "Well, the King and the Queen decided that once I was old enough to express my own opinions that they didn't want me eating meals with them anymore."

Enjolras let out a low chuckle. "Oh? I wonder why that could be..."

He finished slicing the bread and turned to face her. A droplet of water dripped from his hair and slid down his face as he stared at her.

"What?" Claire asked, wiping her face with the back of her hand self- consciously.

"Where are the bowls?" Enjolras said, continuing to look at her intently.

"What?"

"The bowls." Enjolras repeated, smirking.

"Oh, I'll get them, right. Bowls." Claire stammered, backing up a couple steps until her back hit the opposite counter.

Claire turned and reached up to open the cabinet above her head. She was on her tiptoes, and her fingertips grazed the bottom of a bowl, but she couldn't reach quite yet. She stood up as tall as she could on her tiptoes. Almost...almost-  
She felt a presence behind her and chest pressing against her back. She dropped to her feet and turned around quickly to see Enjolras reaching up deftly and grabbing three bowls. He hadn't even needed to get on his toes. Claire scowled.  
He lowered his arms slowly and set the bowls on the counter by her right side before lowering his hands to his sides.

"Unlike your parents," Enjolras said quietly, leaning over to place his mouth by her left ear. "I like your opinions."

"Enjolras, I really, truly am sorry." Claire said. "If it weren't for me, Courfeyrac, Joly, Jehan, everyone might still be alive, and I need you to know that-"

"Claire, stop." Enjolras said, gripping her face in his hands and pressing his lips to hers.

Claire responded to the kiss immediately, grasping the back of his head desperately, as if he were the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground.

"Hey, I'm finished! I-" The voice of Grantaire came from behind them, and Enjolras broke the kiss suddenly to look over his shoulder. "I'll just go back and make sure I didn't miss a spot..." Grantaire said, trying to hold back his laughter.

"No, Grantaire, stay!" Claire said, a bit breathlessly, releasing Enjolras, who backed up a couple steps. "Sit down, Grantaire." She ordered, pointing at the table.  
She reached to her right and collected the bowls and walked shakily to the table. She set the bowls out and then hurried back to the stew on the stove.

"Good, it's done." She said, placing a padded rag on the table before lifting the pot on stove and placing it on top of the rag too keep from burning the table.

She hurried two a drawer and grabbed three spoons and a ladle.

"Enjolras, can you get the bread on the table?"

Enjolras, who had been watching her, nodded and opened the cabinet that he had retrieved the bowls from and pulled out a large metal plate, which he transferred the sliced bread too. He walked to the table and set it down before sitting down himself. Claire rushed to the table, handed each of the men a spoon, and ladled them each some soup, and then sat down, signaling for them to start eating. At one point, Grantaire stood up, and then came back with the two bottles of wine.

It continued this way for uncountable weeks, Claire or Enjolras would make something for them to eat every morning and night while Grantaire sat and watched. In-between meals, they would either spend their time reading books by the fire or just chatting. After the evening meal, they would all get ready for bed. It had started out with Enjolras in the spare room, Grantaire on the sofa, and Claire in her own room, but by the third night, it was apparent that Claire was going to be waking up in the spare room more often than not, so Grantaire, after a great deal of smirking and teasing, had officially moved in to Claire's was on a fateful morning, weeks later, that Claire woke to a pounding on the door.

"Enjolras-" She whispered, nudging the sleeping form next to her.

"Hmmm?" He groaned, rolling over to face her, but not opening his eyes.

"Someone's knocking."

"Do you want me to get it?"

"Do you want to get it?"

"Not necessarily."

"Okay, I'll get it-" Claire said, starting to throw back the covers and reveal her nightgown clad body to the chilly morning air, but Enjolras's hand on her arm stopped her.

"You're warm, I don't want you to get it either."

"Well, someone has to get it, and since Grantaire is hung-over, again, that someone will have to be me." Claire said, gently pulling her arm from his grip and standing up.

"Marry me."

That made Claire stop short.

"What?"

"Marry me." Enjolras repeated, opening his eyes and sitting up slightly to look at her. His hair was disheveled and framed his face, and his look was that of calm confidence, and absolutely full of love.

"I-" Claire stammered, her face growing red as she tried to hide a smile. "Yes, of course."

Enjolras smiled hugely and sank back down under the covers while Claire pulled on a shawl and hurried to leave the bedroom door and go open the door that led to her wing. She unlocked it quickly and opened it to reveal a short, plump, balding man dressed in a suit.

"Hello," Claire stammered. "Can I help you?"

"Your Highness, I am most glad to see that you are all right." The portly man said, clearing his throat, his face growing pale.

"Why wouldn't I be alright?" Claire asked, suspicious.

"Well, it's just with what's happened, there was no one left to warn you, or check up on you-"

"What do you mean? Has something happened? I haven't left my wing in weeks." Claire asked, and edge to her voice.

"Yes, most tragically, a new sickness, influenza if you will, has swept through France. People have been dropping like flies, and I was asked to make sure you were still with us."

"Oh no! How many people are dead?" Claire asked, bringing her hand to her mouth in horror.

"Hundreds, but surprisingly, not many street people. It seems that they've built up an immunity of sorts, it's been mostly higher ranked folks, Dukes and Duchesses and the like. This brings me to the most regrettable news." The little man cleared his throat loudly. "I have the regretful duty to tell you, Princess Clairette that the King and Queen of France, Maria Amalia and George Philippe III, your father and mother, have passed away. I hope you will be comforted in knowing that they did not suffer in the slightest, and that they have been buried together in the royal burial grounds-"

"Why did nobody bother to tell me!?" Claire cried, her knees shaking.

"As I said, we didn't know if you were still with us, and we had to bury the bodies quickly, in order to keep the sickness from spreading. Now, I also have the duty of informing you, as of this moment, you are the Queen of France. It is our hope that you will fulfill your duties by marrying and birthing an heir to the throne." He reached into a small bag he had hanging by his side and pulled out a large, silver crown.  
Claire recognized it at once as her mother's crown. The man handed it to her and she took it with trembling fingers.

"The crowning ceremonies will be held in three days. Farewell, Your Highness." The man said, looking almost sympathetic as he closed his bag and scurried away like a timid little mouse.

Claire looked at the crown in her hands, then shank down the edge of the door until she was on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. She was in the same position when Enjolras found her ten minutes later.

"Claire? Claire what's going on?" He asked, panic in his voice.

Claire extended the hand that was clutching the silver crown.

"They're dead. Influenza broke out and hundreds of people are dead, including my parents. I'm the Queen of France." Claire whispered.  
Saying it herself seemed to break something in her, and tears streamed down her face as she clung to Enjolras as if her were the last floatation device on a sinking ship.

"Claire, it's okay. You're alive, I'm alive, Grantaire is alive, and this is a great new beginning." Enjolras whispered in ear as he hugged her closer. "It's great new beginning for us, and for France."

The crowning ceremony was short and sweet. Claire stood in front of a huge mass of people, proclaiming her love for her country and how she would make it better for everyone.  
The wedding was shortly after. It wasn't a large event. However, two days before, Claire had been able to find a list of the dead from those who died at the barricade, and after scanning through loads of soldiers name and the names of her friends, she realized that one name was missing. Marius Pontmercy was nowhere on the list, and she made it her goal to search the young man out so that Enjolras could have yet another of his friends at the wedding.

xXxXxX MariusXxXxXx

A sharp tapping at the door to his house roused Marius from his light sleeping on his cozy sofa. He'd fallen asleep reading a book that Cosette had bought him, and he hadn't wanted to admit that it bored him to High Heaven.

"Yes, I'm coming!" He called, pushing the open book off his lap.  
He strode to the door and opened it. A young man stood in his doorway, and he recognized him immediately.

"Clark?! You're alive?!"

"Hello, Marius!" Claire replied in an unusually high voice. "Mind if I come in? I don't want anyone to recognize me."

"Yes, yes of course, come in! Do you know if anyone else- is Courfeyrac alive? Why don't you want anyone to recognize-"  
Clark stepped into the cozy house and closed the door behind her.

"No. I mean, Courfeyrac isn't. I'm so sorry. But Grantaire is, and Enjolras. Actually, that's why I'm here." She replied, pulling the brown hat from her head and shrugging off Bahorel's gray jacket.

"Marius, before you say anything," Claire said, noticing Marius's mouth drop as her long hair tumbled from her hat and down past her shoulders. "My name is Claire, and I'm here to invite you Enjolras's wedding."

"Enjolras is _alive_?! He's getting_ married_?!" Marius gasped, looking as though he were about to faint.

"Yes. Grantaire is alive as well. And, well... Enjolras is getting married to me... I'm here to give you an official invite to the royal wedding. Tell Cosette that I would love if she would be my maid of honor-" Claire said handing Marius a crisp white letter before stepping back towards the door.

"Royal? But, Enjolras isn't-"

"No, but I am." Claire said, winking while pulling her hat back on and throwing her jacket over her shoulder, then leaving the house.  
Marius stood, his hand folded around the letter, gazing at where the woman had just been.

"Cosette!" He called loudly. "I have news!"  
XxXxXxXx

The wedding was an emotional reunion between the three friends, and Cosette looked absolutely thrilled to be the Maid of Honor for the Queen of France. After the incredibly long after party, and after Marius and Cosette had been told multiple times that they were welcome whenever they wanted, Enjolras and Claire moved into the wing that her parents used to live in, Grantaire remaining in Claire's old wing.

The duo ruled the country side by side, and within months, it had already improved greatly. Years later, it was said that if you walked in the main entrance of the castle, the laughter of several small children would echo around you, and the booming voice of a very drunk artist could be heard chuckling with the rich voices of a King and a Queen, two rulers who were truly, tremendous revolutionists at heart.

**A rushed ending to a rather rushed fanfiction. I know this ending wasn't ideal, but it was really all i could come up with. Even though it was the last chapter, I would really appreciate a review or two, so don't let the review box starve! This is possibly the last time you'll ever feed it! I hope you liekd it, even though it was short and rushed! **

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Jedss**


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